Real Men

Saturday night, I attended a banquet.  It was for a group of men.  Most of those men are friends of Mr. Lincoln.  I went because Mr. Lincoln was going to win an award.  I tried to surprise him, but apparently the rarity of female participants and the bright red blouse I wore, compromised my stealth efforts.  Mr. Lincoln came out in the hallway to get me and bring me to a seat at his table.  Let me just say, with my vagueness, it is much easier to pass a fast one on me than on him.  I think he was glad to see me. 

Until I learned of the award Mr. Lincoln would be receiving, I had no intention of attending the banquet.  One of his friends was retiring.  Retirement would not have been his choice, but last fall he had an accident in Thailand while on business that left him, for a while, paralyzed from the waist down, and, now 38 weeks after the accident, he remains in physical therapy, unable to drive, and getting around using a cane.  He is only 48 years old.  That is why I had no notion of being at that banquet.  I knew that it would be very poignant, and, yes, sad.  Selfishly, I was going to spare myself the emotion.  It was not to be. 

My life would have been somewhat diminished had I missed this event.  Mr. Lincoln and I have been married 38 years.  We share a life of many commonalities.  Our faith and our family would be the two things we share most deeply.  We enjoy other things together like Seinfeld reruns, some (not all) sporting events, griping about politicians' campaign strategies, entertaining...things like that.  But, we are not a couple who spends all our time together.  I know very little about his day to day work.  He hears more about mine, but while he encourages me, he is not all that interested in the nuts and bolts of my tours.  We have a good deal of separateness in our togetherness.   It works for us.  We like it that way. 

I have not always been as supportive of Mr. Linclon's fall pursuits as I could have been.  I, foolishly, thought football was the big attraction, but the truth is, comraderie and friendship are the true lures.  

The evening began by 16 new men being introduced into this fraternity of sorts.  The importance of being part of such a group of men was stressed to them.  I am sure, as in all organizations, there were those thinking, "yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah, whatever."  Most of them, however, will embrace being part of the group, and will work hard to be the best at their job that they can be. 

Mr. Lincoln was then asked to present an award.  He presented it to a young man who we have known for some time now.  He told funny stories about Jason.  He told Jason that the main reason he got his start in football officiating was because I thought he was cute.  Obviously, there is more to him than his looks, as his peers voted him the recipient of the award he received, basically the "most outstanding young official" in the organization.  Jason was truly and humbly surprised.  He sent Mr. Lincoln a "thank you" email, saying what a good mentor and "father" figure he is.   Mr. Lincoln won that award several years ago. 

Next, a hilarious and precious man stood up to give Mr. Lincoln his award.  This was also voted on by his peers.  Where Jason's award is for the "most outstanding young official," Mr. Lincoln's is for the "most outstanding old official." Actually, it is for someone who gives back to the organization.  Roy called Mr Lincoln his friend.  What can anyone say better about us than that we are a friend?  Roy talked about how Mr. Lincoln mentors young officials, and gives back to the organization.  He talked about work ethic, and the desire to be the best he can be.  I was like a proud mama when Jason got his award, and I was a most proud wife when Mr. Lincoln received his.  You see, I know all those attributes to be true of him, and it brings me great joy when others recognize his worth. 



 There was a lot of laughter.  Good advice was given.  Roy told them all to approach each game and each play as though it would be their last, because you never know when it will be.  He also said that all anyone can ask is that each one does his best.  Not bad advice for life either. 

The time then came for Mr. Lincoln to announce Michael's retirement.  Most people who knew of his injury and the struggles since may not have been surprised.  It had been kept a secret from almost everyone.  To officially hear of his retirement was a blow to many.  Mr. Lincoln cried, Michael cycled through tears to laughter to tears many times.  Roy cried.  Freddy cried.  Even Greg choked up.  Great funny stories were told.  Accolades and words of thankfulness for the association of these men were uttered.  A bowing to the power of God Almighty was displayed.  It was a grand coronation of faith and respect and love and friendship between real men. 

It seemed as though Michael was reluctant to say any words upon receiving recognition, but Mr. Lincoln encouraged him.  I am glad that he did, for Michael's words as well as the way he is taking his walk in faith are an inspiration to those paying attention.  His is a life interrupted, but I am confident that with God's help and his own dogged determination, that Michael will, as he vowed, be "back on the field." 

I do not often enter an arena dominated by so many men.  I hear how men are only able to compete, not nurture.  I know that to not be so.  I witnessed it myself at a banquet I attended Saturday night.  My life and spirit are better for it. 

So, for today I wish you real men in your life...the kind who live their faith, who love their families, who enjoy and work at their hobbies, and I wish you

blessings

 

    

The Other Side

There is a song that was popular a few years ago.  I despise the words:

 there's holes in the floor of Heaven,
"And her tears are pouring down.
"That's how you know she's watching,
"Wishing she could be here now.
"An' sometimes if you're lonely,
"Just remember she can see.
"There's holes in the floor of Heaven
"And she's watching over you and me."

What kind of theology is that?  Where is there any comfort in knowing that someone who has died is weeping in heaven, longing to be on earth, and seeing the pain of loved ones?  Where is any desire created to go where the pains and sorrows of this world can be seen in total?  This song came to me as I, this week, have contemplated "the other side." 

About ten days ago we got word that the grandson of a friend had died of a heroine overdose.  This poor boy's life on this earth contained a wealth of misery.  His father was abusive.  His mother, a perpetual child.  He must have felt that he had no advocates.  He did have many who prayed for and fretted over him.  Several made efforts to get him the help he needed.  Only about thirty people attended his funeral.  I think of such small attendance for the very old who have out lived most of the people in their lives.  I do not think of so small a number at the service of one so young.  It spoke of his isolation. 

There is no comfort thinking of this young man's tears escaping through the holes in heaven.  Instead, I prefer to think of him resting in the arms of a loving Father, cared for and understood.  I choose to believe that he found the answers he was seeking, there on the other side.   

The autumn my father died, I was walking around a lake in a wildlife preserve near my home.  It was one of those heartbreakingly beautiful fall days we have here in Middle Tennessee.  The sky was a brilliant cerulean.  The leaves, clothed in gold and red and orange looked as if they were lighted from within.  There was a welcome cool breeze after the heat of the summer.   Moving reflections in the lake created one-of-a-kind art abstractions.  I remember feeling so sad that my father was missing all that beauty.  Then, it occured to me.  Daddy was not missing the beauty.  He was seeing it from the other side.  I figured it was even more beautiful from his viewing platform than it was from mine. 

Some eighteen years ago (can it have been that long), a very close friend died.  She had spent the weekend with her husband and children.  They had been hiking.  She loved the outdoors.  They said she sang "As the Deer," a song I can never sing without weeping now, as they tromped through the woods.  She died after they returned home.  She died in the car as her husband drove her to the hospital.  There was not time to wait for an ambulance.  Her heart had given out.  No matter how old I live to be, I will never forget how I felt the day a friend called me with the news.  I had had surgery, and was home recovering.  Friends came to my house, and we wept together, remembering our friend.

A year or so after Millie's death, Mr. Lincoln and I were driving home from Florida.  We were going through Birmingham (I think).  It was a night when the moon was full.  I remember looking out the window at the moon, enjoying how exquisitely beautiful it was.  I pictured Millie, sitting with God, and viewing that scene from the other side.   As we continued, mile after mile, I was comforted by that vision in my mind's eye.   What must that moon look like from the other side?  Scientists would give me some explanation, I imagine, but I reckon I will find out on my own when I am on the other side.

In a few minutes, I am going to a visitation.  I do not want to go.  I have tried to come up with every reason to not go.  I have a headache.  It is just going to be too hard to look into the grief I know I am going to see there.  They won't know if I come or not.  I am really not THAT close to the family.  Mr. Lincoln says I need to face my demons.  So, I shall go.  But, I am not happy to be attending the visitation for a 34 year old man who died suddenly, presumably from an undetected heart defect.  I will look in the eyes of his mother with fear and dread.  I do not ever want to know that kind of pain. 

My son and I were discussing this yesterday.  He has known an inordinate number of young men who have died from various causes.  He feels things deeply, so he is hurting.  He said it seems like it is the really good guys, who take care of themselves that die young.  For lack of a better term, it seems so unfair.  We decided that maybe we do not look at it properly.  Our humanity really does not let us see it any other way than a life cut short, and deep sorrow left in the loss.  We do not see from the other side.  We only know life from this side. 

I think we can choose to imagine life from the other side.  Not a ridiculous view of our tears flowing through the floor of heaven as we witness the trials and tribulations of this earth.  Rather, a view from the other side as, perhaps, we see the world through God's eyes.  On the other side we will witness the divinity in each person.   We will witness good hearts instead of flawed people.  Finally, at age 60, I have come to believe that is what God sees.  The potential for good and not the screw-ups.  I believe from the other side He smiles down on us.  I know there is a lot of crud in this world.  I am not that Pollyannaish, but I choose to believe that the view from the other side is spectacular, and viewed in the presence of Magnificence.

For today, I wish you courage to face your demons, I wish you a glimpse of the world through God's eyes, and I wish you

blessings