My Texas Odyssey: Part 1

 

From the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, as cited at thefreedictionary.com:

odyssey

n. pl. od·ys·seys

1. An extended adventurous voyage or trip.

2. An intellectual or spiritual quest: an odyssey of discovery.

Note: this series of blog entries will be part travelogue, part journal, part memoir, part character sketch, part writing exercise (my writing gears are rusty after several months of idleness), and maybe part something else I don't yet anticipate. However, more than anything else, it is a love letter to Texas and the people I love there.  The parts are simply because it was too long to publish as one entry, and another part will be published each Saturday until it's done.  I hope you enjoy these stories.

Introduction: In The Beginning . . . Texas

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My first thought of Texas as a definite place occurred long before I fell in love with Texas or dreamed I'd ever live there. I was about six years old, around 1971, and my Mama and Daddy had met this couple through their work with Amway. This couple, Tom and Brenda V., had three kids, and Tom would eventually lead both my Mama and me to our first experience of faith. We lived in Trenton, Georgia, and they lived out of town in the country up in the mountains. They were originally from Texas, somewhere around Temple, I think.

I remember we were up there in the autumn (I remember that because it was cool and it seems like the leaves on the trees were turning and beginning to fall) at their house. My sister, Cindy, and I were playing with the other kids. The two boys had this toy football game; it was a miniature football field with two teams of little plastic football players; it plugged into an electric outlet, and after setting up the teams in position, you turned it on and it vibrated. (It was made by Tudor and you can still buy older ones on Ebay.) There was no rhyme or reason to it at all, and the little men just gyrated around the board randomly (sort of the way the Cowboys seem to be playing some games at the time I write this), but anyway at some point the little figure with the ball would topple over (which meant being tackled), vibrate out of bounds, or (rarely) actually cross one of the goal lines to “score” (and it would just as likely be the other team's goal – at least the Cowboys haven't done that this year).

I remember when we played, the boys would inevitably be the Dallas Cowboys, and they regaled me with tales of how great the Cowboys were, how great coach Tom Landry was, and, most especially, how great quarterback Roger Staubach was.

I have never had a natural affinity for sports, much preferring to read a book or to write than spend my time watching or playing sports (except that I loved playing sports at school during recess or just playing with friends growing up). Even today that is true (the part about me preferring reading a book or writing, not playing at recess or with friends). I have always enjoyed watching sports when I do; it's just not something I schedule around. But if I'm with others who enjoy it, I enjoy it as much as they do. (I am so totally inept in my knowledge of sports, when my nephew called me the other day to talk on the phone, the first thing I asked him, he being a true sports fan and me trying to impress him that I was current and knowledgeable for a change, was, “Do you think Georgia's ready for Alabama this weekend?” Somehow, I thought I'd seen someone talking about this on Facebook, and of course, since it was on Facebook, I thought it must be true. After a moment of confused silence, he broke it to me gently: “Georgia doesn't play Alabama this year.” Oh. Um. Ok. “Check please!”)

The one exception to my sports-less wasteland was this: since that day in 1971, I considered myself a fan of the Dallas Cowboys, and am to this day. Based on nothing but these boys not much older than my own six years, and whose parents were from Texas, telling me how great the Cowboys were (even if they didn't do so well on the vibrating football field we were using). Of course, when I actually moved to Dallas, my connection to the Cowboys was even more real to me, and remains so.

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In February, 1980, a few weeks before my 15th birthday, I walked to the front of our church during what is known as the “invitation” in many evangelical churches, and said that I felt like God was calling me into the ministry. I was in ninth grade.

I felt like I should get a theological education, going to Bible college first and then seminary. I considered several schools, but because my church and pastor had strong connections to First Baptist Church of Dallas, and because I had a cousin who was a pastor and had gone there, almost right away, I decided that I wanted to go to Criswell College, in Dallas, Texas.

So it was, in August, 1983, we packed everything I owned into a rooftop carrier on my Mama's little Honda Civic, and Mama, my sister Cindy, one of her good friends, and I headed west on I-20 out of Georgia for Dallas. The only times I had been out of Georgia was to go to Florida or the Smokey Mountains in North Carolina on vacation, several trips to Chattanooga, Tennessee, trips to Alabama to see relatives, and a trip my senior year in high school to Washington, D.C.

I still remember the moment we came over a small hill about 10 or 15 miles east of Dallas, and suddenly rising up out of the flat land that spread before us, there it was: big, beautiful, glamorous and glorious. In that moment, I fell in love with that city. And knew, somehow, even before I realized what it meant, that I was coming home.

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Chapter 1: Journey to Blossom

I have been in Kansas since January, 2010, and before my most recent trip last week, which prompted this bit of writing, had not been back to Dallas except for a couple of trips in the truck when I passed through and was able to stop for several hours.

I left Topeka the morning of Tuesday, September 25, going south on US 75, through Tulsa, and the Indian Nation Turnpike in Oklahoma, and then south on US 271 into Texas. Just north of Paris, I was welcomed to the state I had longed to return to since the last time I left.

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A few miles east of Paris, I came to Blossom, Texas, my first stop on this trip. Blossom isn't a place I historically have connections to in Texas. But this is where my friend Billy lives now. And it started in Dallas almost 30 years ago . . .

Within three days of arriving in Dallas in August, 1983, I had a place to live (an apartment I shared with two other Criswell students) and I had a job.

Criswell College had no student housing and I had to work to support myself through school. I went to school full-time Tuesday through Friday and worked after school. My first job was in east Dallas at the Sears on Ross Avenue. The store was already on life support when I got there, and it has long since disappeared, currently replaced by a small shopping center anchored by a grocery store, as in the photo below.

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On that first day I went in to work in the customer service department, one of the people I met, and with whom I worked most days until closing, was a man in his early 50's named Billy. He was a nice man, and helped me learn the procedures in my new job. I told him I was a student at Criswell, and he told me that when he was about my age, in the early 1950's, he had gone to Bible college as well, at the time thinking he might become a missionary to Africa. So began a friendship that has lasted almost 30 years.

During the years I was in Dallas, Billy was a friend, mentor, teacher, example, and most of all, an encourager. I have never met anyone in my life who models all that it means to be an “encourager” more than Billy. He is a quiet, gentle man, with an easy infectious laugh, and the most remarkable memory for details of his personal history I have ever encountered. I think Billy has stayed in regular contact with every friend he's ever had, going back to connections in his 1940's high school class and church youth group.

After I left Sears to go work at the Dallas Public Library's downtown branch, we kept in touch, and we rarely missed our weekly lunch at McDonald's, Arby's, or Church's Chicken, usually in east Dallas. I didn't have a car during part of that time, and he'd always come pick me up at school or home or wherever I happened to be.

I never shared my struggles, fears, doubts, frustrations with Billy but that I ended up being strengthened and encouraged. It remains so to this day. Over the years, I introduced my circle of good friends to Billy, and he became their friend as well. Over the years he was in Dallas, Billy served as a friend and mentor to no less than 5 Criswell students, some of whom I didn't even know.

After spending many years working his regular day job at the Dallas Independent School District and then working a second job at night (many years at Sears, and then, later at the library), he and his wife (Sarah, whom I considered a good friend as well) retired, and bought a house in Blossom, near the area where Billy grew up. We never miss a week exchanging e-mails, and I know I never miss a day being prayed for, because I and my family have been on his daily prayer list for years.

Billy is that rarest of friends in the earth who is a treasure to be cherished, one of those people who is loved and admired by all who know him. Including me. Thank you for almost 30 years of friendship, encouragement, and faithfulness. I am a better man because of your influence.

I was able to spend a few hours visiting with Billy on this trip, and I can't think of a better way to start a trip to Texas than by seeing my first and oldest friend from Dallas.

Next time, Part 2 will cover the following:

 Chapter 2:  Heartlight -- "Jesus' Love Rules!"

Chapter 3:  The Early Days

The Republicans Made Me Do It: Why I Am Voting For President Obama

“Mr. President, it is not only possible, it is essential . . . . Deterrence is the art of producing in the mind of the enemy... the FEAR to attack.” – Peter Sellers as Dr. Strangelove in the movie of that same title

Introduction: First Thoughts

“Since there's no other place around the place, this must be the place, I reckon.” In writing about politics, and particularly the subject referenced in the title of this post, I think it will prove helpful to make some introductory statements.

• In what I write here, I am only communicating my own experiences, perspectives, conclusions. I maintain no claim to objectivity, and even though I will try to base my reasoning in facts, my writing reflects my own interpretations of those facts, through the prism of my own experience.
• In writing what I write here, I am not concerned with whether you are liberal, conservative, libertarian, socialist or something else. I am not concerned with trying to change your views about specific issues. My goal is to highlight political strategies and the way that one group in particular has helped to destroy the Republican party and hold America hostage.
• In my criticism of the Tea Party, I am well aware that for most of my life, I was ideologically in league with them in many ways. One reason I share part of my own journey in Part 1 is to reflect that reality. If I claim the Tea Party is too extreme (and I do), I am reminded that at one point, I was even more extreme and narrow in my convictions and perceptions of reality. And, to the extent that I was active and supportive of the evolution of the Religious Right and the Republican Party, I indict myself for the disastrous situation it has led to in the present.

Part 1: My Own Journey

“A long, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.” In late January, 1977, I was eleven years old. I had started my first regular journal the year before. In my journal at that time, there is an entry I wrote as I watched the inauguration of President Jimmy Carter on TV at my grandparents' house. Jimmy Carter was from my own state of Georgia, and I was proud that he was the one who was going to take us out of the turmoil that had been Watergate and heal the wounds of Vietnam.

Three years later, in ninth grade, I was not able to vote, but if I could have, I would have voted for Ronald Reagan. I considered myself a Republican, and proudly so. The pride I had in Jimmy Carter had turned to embarrassment as all the promise I'd felt before evaporated into disappointment. My own mood reflected the overall experience of the country.

In 1982, as a senior in high school, I had two jobs. After going to school for half a day in the morning, in the afternoon I worked in the local office of one of Georgia's senators, Sam Nunn. Although a Democrat, he was conservative in all the right ways, and I admired him greatly. I still do.

At night and on the weekend, I worked in the local library. It was called Carnegie Library in those days, and in the old building on Broad Street, in Rome, Georgia, my realm was a small room in the basement called the Special Collections Department, which housed periodicals and genealogical materials. For me, it was heaven. I was Br'er Rabbit in the briar patch.

When things were slow, and my work was caught up, I was free to work on my own genealogical research which I'd become fascinated with after seeing Roots on TV. I also read voraciously from magazines that were in the library's collection.

Sometime in the fall of 1982, one of the magazines I discovered was a quarterly collection of essays about current political and cultural issues called American Opinion. It was published by the John Birch Society, and it presented a perspective which resonated with my own in the most important ways. At the same time, in one of those examples of synchronicity when the universe brings together two otherwise unrelated strands, I was getting to know the staffers in the local office of my Congressman, Larry McDonald, whose office was two doors down from Senator Nunn's office in the Federal Building downtown where I worked in the afternoon. Larry McDonald, the only other Democrat I liked, was the President of the John Birch Society (and for those of you too young to remember the JBS, you can read their history here). Not surprisingly, perhaps, Congressman McDonald's two staffers in Rome, a husband and wife, were also recruiters for the John Birch Society.

So it was, in 1983, shortly after I'd turned 18, I joined the John Birch Society. I remember going to my first meeting, and being totally surprised that of the 8 or 9 men present, five of them were leaders from my church, whom I already knew and respected. Ironically, the guest speaker that day was my own pastor. I felt like God could not have confirmed the rightness of my being there as a new member of the John Birch Society more if he had appeared to me in a blue dress and told me so himself.

One of the foundations of the world view promoted by the John Birch Society was a conspiratorial view of history. That was the only thing about the JBS that gave me pause. I just never could fully buy into the view that most things that happened in the world were the result of an orchestrated plan hatched long ago by a secretive group of elites who were hiding behind the scenes pulling the strings for their own predetermined ends.

In August, 1983, I moved to Dallas, Texas, to go to college to train for the ministry. I never became active in the local JBS chapter after I moved to Texas, but you can imagine how everything made so much sense to me when I learned that Larry McDonald was killed when the Korean Air Lines flight he was on (KAL 007) was shot down by a Russian missle. I was a true believer.

“Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!” In 1984, through a series of what seemed like coincidences at the time, I found myself working on the staff of a church in Dallas while I was going to school. While there I started a ministry focused on families in the inner city.

This changed everything for me: my vision for ministry and what I viewed as my life's purpose. My view of the world at large became imprinted with the passion I had for helping others and what that meant. It influenced my politics also, although those shifts happened more gradually.

I began to read books by Ron Sider, John Perkins, Walter Rauschenbusch, and Gustavo Gutierrez, which challenged my old paradigms and perspectives. My focus in ministry became more centered in issues of social, racial and economic justice. At the same time, I still didn't believe government had a role (or if so, it was very little) in these things. I thought it was the church's job to work for these things – and the church was failing miserably in my view. Especially the evangelical church of which I was a part.

In 1991, I moved to Chicago to live and work in an evangelical Christian community (you might be more familiar with the term “commune”) there called Jesus People USA (still going strong today: http://www.jpusa.org). For the first time, I encountered evangelicals who were committed to the same things I was (working with the poor, social, economic, racial justice) and who were mostly Democrats. Pro-life Democrats? How could you be an evangelical Christian and be Democrat? And yet, here were several hundred of the most passionate, committed, godly people I have ever known who were evangelical in their theology and liberal in their politics.

In spite of my own changing political views, I continued to think of myself as a Republican. And I voted that way. Enter George W. Bush and 9/11.

“We're all mad here.” For me, George W. Bush held such promise. He talked about “compassionate conservatism” and tried to do some huge things that I believed in: comprehensive immigration reform, education reform, and entitlement reform. With Republican majorities in Congress, I was optimistic.

Of course, 9/11 had changed everything, and initially I thought George W. Bush was the right man for that crucial period in our history. I was so wrong.

On almost all the domestic issues important to me, I watched Republicans in Congress stop, block or obstruct what President Bush tried to do. At the same time, the Republicans expanded government and deficits, badly over-reached in endangering the very civil liberties we were supposedly at war to preserve, and President Bush mangled the handling of things in Afghanistan and Iraq (in both places, we engaged in a misbegotten strategy of nation-building, trying to import American democracy, and in almost every way we could go wrong, we did go wrong; I believe now that we should never, ever have gone to Iraq – though I supported it in the beginning). I never imputed to the Bush administration the evil intentions that some had with regard to Iraq, but reached some of the same conclusions.

I felt like Republicans had lost their way, growing fat and complacent and corrupt being in power for so long, and I thought they got just what they deserved when Democrats won huge gains in the 2006 elections, even though I had still voted Republican that year.

In 2008, everything hit the fan economically, and we faced a crisis that loomed as large in its way as 9/11 had presented. And much of the seeds for what happened had been planted by Republicans, just as in the 1920's before the Great Depression. (Some of this was very well documented in the great FDR biography, Traitor To His Class by H. W. Brands. It's hard to ignore the parallels.)

In spite of those things, in 2008, I voted for John McCain, and when I first became aware of the Tea Party, I was encouraged in several ways: they talked about returning the Republican party to its historical roots fiscally, and they talked about principles that were important to me like freedom and liberty. I was also encouraged that it seemed to be a grassroots movement of people who were rightly angry. I was hopeful that maybe I could once more feel at home in the Republican party.

Still, when Barak Obama was elected, even though I hadn't voted for him, I felt a sense of hope, and I was proud of the fact that as a nation, in spite of all our problems, we had reached the point of electing an African-American as our leader.

After Barack Obama's election, I watched the influence of the Tea Party in the Republican party intensify. And, as I watched what they did, I realized that I was witnessing the destruction of the Republican party I had always loved, and I also realized that I might be witnessing the beginning of the destruction of America as I had known it.

Part 2: The Tea Party Disaster

As I watched the influence of the Tea Party grow into the 2010 elections, and their subsequent infection of the politics in Washington, and the 2012 elections, I have been disgusted and horrified at what I have seen. And it's not their political beliefs that abhor me (indeed, some of what they claim to believe have historically been things that resonate with me), but it's the way they have poisoned politics and helped eliminate meaningful discourse, not only in the Republican party, but in the nation's politics as a whole.

The ways that the Tea Party movement have ravaged the Republican party and taken the entire nation hostage aren't new. These tactics and strategies have been employed by politicians of every stripe and political party before; what's different now is the scope and intensity of what's going on and the fact that there are fewer politicians who are willing to stand up to this insanity and put the good of the country ahead of the drive for political power and despotic conformity to a destructive ideology.

One of the best sources documenting what I'm talking about is the book It's Even Worse Than It Looks by Thomas Mann and Norman Ornstein. The authors carry no political axe to grind and do a good job examining how things got the way they are and have some suggestions about what to do about it. I highly recommend it, but since I know not many folks will be motivated enough to get the book, I'll outline some of my own observations that make some of the same points as that book. You can at least read a good review of the book here.

Another book which examines these things is Robert Draper's Do Not Ask Not What Good We Do.

Setting the stage. Though not directly related to the Tea Party's purge of the Republican party and their dismantling of constructive dialogue in Washington for the good of the country (all in the name of not compromising – give me a break!), one of the worst Supreme Court decisions since Dred Scott sets up the machinery for the Tea Party to do its work more viciously and destructively: the Citizens United case that was decided in 2010.

Declaring that corporations and other organizations have the same free speech rights as people, and removing almost a century of legislative attempts to limit and provide disclosure for certain political activities, this decision opened the door for the unregulated and largely unethical attack machines known as Super-PAC's.

And who is taking advantage more than anyone else of this sad situation: by and large Republicans, and particularly the Tea Party Republicans. Who supports this decision? Mostly Republicans.

One response to the Citizens United disaster to try and restore some sanity (or at least some accountability) is a measure introduced in Congress known as the DISCLOSE Act. It is ironic that it is supported chiefly by Democrats and opposed by Republicans. I don't support all its provisions, but it's a hell of a lot better than having nothing in place.

The stage has been set. Now, to look at what I view as the major sins of the Tea Party (and I use that word on purpose since a large part of Tea Party support comes from those calling themselves Evangelical Christians – in my view the Tea Party is the Religious Right in drag, and given the results, it is no real surprise).

Stupidity involving President Obama. First of all, I started witnessing an assault on and attempted assassination of the character of Barack Obama: the birther movement, claims of the President being a Muslim, or a socialist. And the subtle racial undertones. All from the Tea Party, or people associated with the Tea Party. I realize that is something that has characterized American politics since the beginning – at least back to the election of 1800 (and, by the way, there is a fascinating book about that which is illuminating as well) – and I certainly remember all the vitriol aimed at George W. Bush.

However, there is a difference in the tone and volume that surpasses anything we have seen in my lifetime. That is directly a result of the way the Tea Party has chosen to wage political battle on purpose, and they are aided to a great extent by the awful Super-PAC's that are one horrible result of the so-called Citizens United ruling by the Supreme Court.

Some (maybe most) Republicans might disclaim any involvement in these things, and the Tea Party would perhaps deny supporting such attacks on the President. However, I am not aware of one single leader of the Republicans or the Tea Party who has denounced such claims as the falsehoods they are. And, Mitt Romney, who has been taken hostage by the Tea Party evidently (you know, at one time, I might have been able to vote for him), not too long ago had a fund raiser where Donald Trump (a business genius, but an idiot in his birther fetish) was a prominent guest.

The Purge (did they consult with Stalin on how to do this from the grave?) The second thing I witnessed that was just as horrible to me was the huge shift to the right in mainstream Republican politics, and the resulting war to purge anyone who was moderate or just not crazy-conservative enough. Tea Party Republicans were not just running against liberal Democrats – they were (and are) attacking good, conservative people. And their tactics were beyond anything I have ever witnessed. In their view, evidently anything is justified as a tactic if it achieves more dominance and power, and ideological purity.

I will include a very small sample of examples of this from memory, though there are many. It's happening everywhere. Sane Republicans are being challenged by these Tea Party zealots, and losing, usually because they are floating in plenty of money and using horribly negative campaigning to try to destroy their opponents. The sad thing to me is that people are actually voting for these parasites.

• When I moved to Kansas in 2010, I did some research into Kansas politics in order to be able to vote intelligently in the elections that year. My Congressman was (and is) Lynn Jenkins. In 2010, she had a Republican primary challenger. I got a brochure from this Republican challenger, and one of the assertions made against Lynn Jenkins was that she was “too liberal” and had actually talked to some Democrats in Congress. I was like, “Really? A liberal Congressman in Kansas? And a Republican?” I did the research into Lynn Jenkins' voting record, and found her to be consistently conservative, even more than I was comfortable with. Thank goodness the Tea Party-sponsored bozo lost the primary.
• Also re Lynn Jenkins: since the 2010 elections, I have noticed my Congressman move further to the right, and consistently side with the Tea Party-dictated House Republicans to maintain the party line. This has happened to more and more otherwise (and once) good people: they have had to shift dramatically to the right in order to avoid the not-so-subtle threats of facing Tea Party rivals. This saddens me as much as almost anything else: and it has happened not just here, but in many places. John McCain (I never would have thought he would cave to some wacko minority and give up sensible principle), Orrin Hatch, and many others.
• Perhaps the worst example of what I'm talking about happened in Indiana during the Republican primary for the Senate seat held by Richard Luger. He was defeated in the primary by Richard Mourdock, the Tea Party candidate. And a memorable quote I read right after the election that is emblematic of the inherent problem of the Tea Party's view makes him the poster-child for everything that is wrong in the Tea Party and in the Republican Party right now. He basically said that his idea of “compromise” was that others in the Senate should come to his viewpoints on things as a starting place for negotiation and debate. Here's one of many links talking about his views. I hope the people of Indiana realize how corrosive this guy will be and will not give him a stage in the Senate. (Note: I realize that Richard Luger created most of his own problems in Indiana, and I'm not saying that he could or should have been re-elected, but what I'm saying is that the guy who won the Republican primary to replace him is so dangerous that I fear for our country if he, and others with his same mentality, are given the keys to Washington, D.C.)

Holding America hostage. The third thing I witnessed was that when the Republicans made huge gains in the 2010 elections, their primary objectives became (1) keeping and gaining more power and (2) obstructing, reversing, defeating anything that President Obama or the Democrats tried to do, even in situations where they actually agreed in principle with the ideas, and even in situations where they themselves had been in favor of the exact same ideas before. The fact that President Obama was in favor of it made it automatically something these idiots were opposed to. And they were doing this in the worst economic crisis of my lifetime. They were (and are) willing to throw the country under the bus to achieve their own insane ends, all the while blaming the President and doing it all in the name of “no compromise”.

Two horrible examples:

• During the debt-ceiling debate in 2011, the Republicans “played chicken” (as termed in It's Even Worse Than It Looks) with the President, and were willing to make the nation pay the price (which it has) for its stupidity even if it meant economic disaster. No matter what compromises the President or the Democrats brought to the table, they were met with resistance and no-holds-barred idiocy in the name of “no compromise”. This wasn't steadfastness in the name of some principle; it was a high stakes game of treason against the American people for political gain.
• During the past two years, Republicans have consistently blocked, opposed, sabotaged measures that would help the American people – and what is most amazing to me is that they have done this repeatedly, consistently in issues where they were previously supportive, or even initiated them. How insane is that? In this time when there should be more dialogue and compromise, these “insurgent outliers” (from It's Even Worse Than It Looks again) have transformed into two-year-olds in the sandbox demanding everyone play by their rules (which they change on a whim for their own selfish ends) or they are not playing at all (my apologies to two-year-olds).

Today's Republican party claims to venerate and idolize Ronald Reagan as their patron saint and inspiration (and I would be in that camp), but Ronald Reagan couldn't even get nominated in the current Republican party: he's not conservative enough and (oh my god!) he actually compromised and dealt with Democrats in order to get things done for the good of the country.

As I have watched the kidnapping and hijacking of the Republican party (and, in some ways, the nation) by the Tea Party, I feel like I have no choice. I'm not a Democrat, but I'm certainly not a Republican these days.

But, you can be sure that, at every turn and opportunity, I will be voting for and working for the election of Democrats, including President Obama. The worst-case scenario imaginable at the hands of the Democrats is better than the sure and certain destruction that will come should the Tea Party Republicans get even more control of things. God help us if that happens.

I hope that you will read the books I have mentioned. Get mad as hell. And go vote. It's time to send the Tea Party packing back to their little echo chambers so that America can get on with the business of solving our problems.

Conclusion: Thoughts and Resources

I am aware that my own migration away from conservative politics (especially on social issues) over the last 30 years might have resulted in my eventually leaving the Republican party anyway. However, even if I were still as conservative as I used to be, the things I've outlined about the tactics and mindset of the Tea Party would have yielded the same result. I am angry and disgusted. And I'm embarrassed that I was ever involved in much of what would become the foundation for what the Tea Party has been allowed to do.

In addition to the two books I mentioned earlier, there are several resources I recommend for informing yourself about what's going on in Washington so you can make your own decisions.

• http://votesmart.org/ - this is one of the best (though certainly not the only) sources of non-partisan information for anyone wanting to be more informed (and if your primary sources of information are places like Fox News or MSNBC, you are not informed; you are indoctrinated. And there is a huge difference).
• http://www.factcheck.org/ - again, not the only resource, but one of the best for seeking a more objective view of facts without the spin.
• http://www.congress.org/congressorg/megavote/ - one of my favorite resources. Sign up to get a weekly e-mail detailing exactly what Congress voted on and how your Congressman and Senators voted.

My favorite resource for political news is on SiriusXM satellite radio, and is the POTUS channel. It is truly non-partisan, and they do a good job of presenting views from many perspectives.

I would challenge each of you, regardless of your political views, to expose yourself to other points of view and perspectives. If you listen to FOX or MSNBC, listen to something else occasionally. It might be enlightening, if you are open to being enlightened.

What Matters Most

“The way you treat the person you love the least is the way you love God the most.”

--Glenn Kaiser on “Glenn's Rap”, the last track of the excellent 1984 Live Bootleg album from Resurrection Band

The Gift. Sometimes, going through the motions of living our lives, with all its demands, distractions, pressures, obligations, pleasures, it is easy to forget the things that matter most. I find this is especially true in my own life, being alone and on the road most of the time. It's easy for my perspective to narrow, turn inward, and think everything revolves around me if I'm not paying attention (and sometimes even if I am).

Charles Hummell, in a book he wrote called Tyrany of the Urgent, observed that a great danger of modern life was letting the noisy cry of the urgent take our focus away from what was important.

Sometimes, for me, it takes a radical change to regain my perspective, rearrange my priorities, become centered once again in what matters most. Such an experience came about for me last December.

I had just returned to Topeka after being on the road and everything seemed as it should in most ways. I went to the doctor about some pain in one of my legs that wasn't going away. Several hours later, I was in the hospital. Diagnosis: blood clot.

At such a time, I felt more alone, more disconnected from everything and everyone important to me than I had in a long time. Here I was in Kansas, and everyone I loved was mostly in Georgia, Texas, or California. I felt stranded.

It helped immensely to have the presence and kindness of my great friend Terry Roberts, and his wife, Shannon. When Shannon visited me in the hospital, and later, when I was home, brought home-cooked food by, I was riveted by the fact that in these small acts of compassion and friendship was a reminder to me of what really matters most.

Later on, faced with the prospect of not being able to work for a month, being alone in my apartment, with no income, I could feel myself sliding to the edge of despondency.

Then, my Daddy called. Aware of my situation, he asked me what I would think of the idea of him using his frequent flier miles to fly me down to Florida so that I could be there for Christmas. As he put it, “If you are gonna be out of work and home anyway, it would be better if you could be around people who love you.”

I became like a little kid opening his Christmas presents. Not only did I get to fly to Florida, but we were able to drive up to Georgia, and I was able to spend the holidays with my family there. What a precious gift!

And through the help and support of my Daddy, Mama, and friends, I made it through that month out of work without being late on one bill and without starving (I know, I know, it would take a while – you hecklers in the back there, feel free to move on to the blog down the street).

And, perhaps most important of all, I was reconnected to what matters most.

One Little Boy. Another thing that helps me stay connected to what matters most is the relationship I have with a 10 year old boy and his family here in Topeka through Big Brothers Big Sisters (an awesome organization that does wonderful work across the country). His name is Jon.

Every week when I come off the road, Jon and I hang out for a couple of hours, doing fun stuff, working on homework, watching movies (one of the favorite things for both of us), eating out, playing at the park. It's not so important what we do as that we spend that time together. And every week, when I drive up to the house, and Jon runs out the front door screaming, “Allan's here! Woohoo!”, I am reminded that what I'm doing isn't just spending time with one little boy. I'm involved in what matters most, making an investment in eternity.

Amy Carmichael. When I was in college and just beginning my work in the ministry, I came across the writings and life of missionary Amy Carmichael, who established an orphanage in India. She quickly became one of my heroines in faith and ministry.

One of the first biographies I ever read of her, Amy Carmichael of Dohnavur, by Frank Houghton, recounts a story in Amy's own words of an experience she had as a young girl. The book is in storage in Georgia, so I can't quote it directly, or I would. My paraphrase will perhaps serve the purpose.

When she was young and living in Belfast, Ireland, her family had just come out of church on a rainy, blustery Sunday, and were walking home. Into the crowd of church-goers walking along, coming from the opposite direction, was a poor woman bundled up in rags trying to carry a load that was quickly becoming too much for her.

Amy and her younger brother ran over to the lady to help her with the bags, much to the consternation of the more well-to-do and fashionable church-goers, for whom such an act was scandalous, to be seen with or around one of the town's poor. As people looked and gaped, Amy and her brother helped the woman along the rain-soaked streets of Belfast. They passed a fountain, and from behind, Amy heard a voice as clearly as any she had ever heard: “Wood, hay, stubble; gold, silver, precious stones.”

She turned around to see who had spoken, and there was no one. But what was said shook her, and she was never the same again. “From that moment,” she wrote, “I knew that the only things that would matter were the eternal.”

What matters most.

Warren Buffett. I recently finished an excellent biography of Warren Buffett, The Snowball. One of the most interesting anecdotes in the book occurs toward the end, as Warren Buffett, in his 80's, is looking back over the span of his life. One of the most successful men in history in many ways, the way many reckon success, he said something that riveted my attention and resonated deeply with me.

He said that the measure of his success as a man wasn't how much money he made, how much money he gave away, what happened to all the successes and failures of businesses with which he was associated. He said, instead, that the measure of how successful his life had been at the end would be how many people there were in the world who loved him, and whom he loved in return.

What matters most.

What matters most: a personal story. To conclude this meditation on what matters most, I offer this illustration that serves to remind me over and over again what that means.

A couple of years ago, I was visiting some people very dear to me, whose family I have been connected with for almost 30 years, and who are as dear to me as my own flesh and blood. As I was hugging people and telling them good-bye (I was on my way to move to Topeka), there was present a young lady in her mid-teens who is part of this extended family, and who grew up knowing who I was to them, but had not been around me much herself.

This young lady, at such a young age, has been through much pain in her life. She has family who love her, but the people who should be there for her the most have effectively abandoned her, orphaned her in a practical sense. There is no risk factor I am aware of that she is not touched by in some fashion, and many in society would write her off, say her situation is bleak, even hopeless.

Passing through the house where I was on my way out the door, this young lady happened to be walking toward me, and for a moment there was no one else around. As I saw her, our eyes met, and I stopped. She stopped.

Not even knowing why I did it at the time, but feeling like it was something I should do, I looked at her and said, addressing her by name, “I know you have been through a lot for someone so young. I know you feel like no one cares and you have no one in this world sometimes. But I want you to know that God loves you and is here for you, and I love you and I am here for you. I am in your corner, I am for you, never against you, and will believe in you no matter what. There is nothing you can do or not do, nothing that can happen to you, that will change how God feels about you or how I feel about you. I want you to always remember that.”

She started crying, she hugged me, and she said, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Months later, I am in Topeka, that incident largely forgotten. My phone rings and I answer. It is this young lady. She was in a horrible situation, scared, lonely, and didn't know what to do. So she called me and talked to me because she believed the words I had said to her that night.

I listened, encouraged, and prayed for her as best I could.

She is through that crisis, is doing well, and I am very proud of the way she has dealt with the challenges she has faced at such a young age, when, by all that's right, she shouldn't be facing them at all.

But every so often, every few months, she will call me or text me, just to say hello and let me know how she's doing or just to talk. All because of a few words spoken about what matters most.

The end of the matter. As I've pondered these things over the past few weeks, thinking about what matters most, my hope in writing this is to prompt you to think about these things as well. What is there in our lives that will remain after we are gone? It's the love we share with those we are connected to and the influence we leave in the lives of others. It makes everything else, all the daily struggles and challenges not matter so much when we consider what matters most.

You can't give away what you don't have, as they say. If you are someone who is trapped in the tyranny and futility of a performance-based religion, and you don't have a relationship with a God who loves like I've alluded to, I would encourage you to find out about such a God.

One of the best things I'm aware of that talks about how much God loves us and, more than anything else, wants relationship with us, is the book The Shack. I commend it to you.

My prayer is that we will all become more aware of and focus on what matters most.

Be well until next time . . . blessings and peace to you.

Allan

Three Years After "Four Years Later"

Note: this was originally written in 2009 as part of an entry in my old blog, Lonesome Dove Xpress-ions. Like the Valentine's Day entry from yesterday, this post over the years has gotten more response than almost anything else. There are some new comments at the end. – Allan

Four Years Later. It was four years ago today that she and I, with many tears and much travail, walked into the Lake County Courthouse and ended our marriage of ten years.

For a long time, thinking of this day only brought pain and regret. Now, it prompts other thoughts. And, when such thoughts come, I must write. So, now, I write.

It is perhaps fitting that, having begun as friends, our friendship is what remains after all. I treasured that friendship in the beginning, and treasure it now.

I am glad that four years later, we have both moved past the hurt and pain of our parting, and I think that in very important ways both of us are better, stronger, more whole as people than we were four years ago. We have both found some level of happiness and contentment, and for that I am thankful.

As I think about this day, I think not so much about our separation and the ending of our marriage as about the ten years we had together. And I think about it with joy.

She was my love of a lifetime, and in our ten years, I loved for a lifetime. I seek no other, can imagine no other love.

Thoughts of that time bring small remembrances from the treasure house of my heart where such things are stored.

I remember her laughter, and how it brought joy to my heart to hear it. I remember making her coffee every morning so she could wake up slowly while watching HGTV. I remember our Thursday nights watching “Friends” and “ER”.

I remember our Friday night date nights, especially those that found us over at Mom and Dad's playing gin rummy.

I remember cooking breakfast on Saturday mornings.

I remember her thrill at finding a treasure at the thrift store, a yard sale, or the flea market.

I remember her touch, her smile, her kiss, her love. I remember the way she felt in my arms. I remember how right the world was lying next to her, snuggling on those rare cold nights in Florida.

I remember, and am glad.

The end of the matter is this:

Four years later, I still miss her.

Four years later, I still love her.

Four years later, I remain, and ever shall be, though time itself should cease and fail to mark the span since we parted, truly hers.

Three Years After “Four Years Later”: 2012. Though I didn't realize it when I wrote it in 2009, this blog entry represented a real turning point in my heart and my journey toward healing and wholeness. After years of regret and hurt, remembering what I had lost, I found in writing this that I was now able to remember the good, treasure the joy of what I had in my marriage to Charlotte.

In the time since I originally wrote this, Charlotte found love again and is now married to a good man from all accounts I have. That was an answer to a prayer we had both prayed for a long time.

Three years after “Four Years Later”, I don't mark my calendar by the date this anniversary rolls around so much, and if I note it, it is with the joy of gratitude for what we had during those years we were together and not with the pain and regret of what was lost. Today, I am more prone to look ahead to the future than behind at what is past. I am hopeful, grateful, and content. A man cannot ask for much more than that.

Three years after “Four Years Later”, I am a better man, in part because of what I had with Charlotte. For that, I will always be thankful.

Three years after “Four Years Later”, all is well.

I pray it is so with you.

Allan