What's Your Epitaph?

And the end of the fight is a tomb stone white with the name of the late deceased
And an epitaph drear “A fool lies here who tried to hustle the east.”

-Rudyard Kipling

Do you ever give thought to the epitaph you want on your tomb stone? Or, do you ever wonder what your surviving relatives (always thought that was a strange connotation. Like they survived your dying?)?

Apparently the possibilities are wide open.

Here lies the body
of Jonathan Blake
Stepped on the gas
Instead of the brake.
Memory of an accident in a Uniontown, Pennsylvania cemetery

Here lays Butch,
We planted him raw.
He was quick on the trigger,
But slow on the draw.
In a Silver City, Nevada, cemetery

I was somebody.
Who, is no business
Of yours.
Someone determined to be anonymous in Stowe, Vermont

And my favorite,

"I told you I was sick!"
In a Georgia cemetery

On a more serious note, lately I think I know what mine may turn out to be, if I live that long. 

My wife and granddaughter (5 years old) talk about me a good bit. In a loving effort to help our granddaughter understand the people in her world, her grandmother will often explain other people’s behavior. I’m no exception. One evening, in anticipation of the coming morning – my granddaughter asked, “Will granddaddy Kim be here in the morning?” My wife explained, “No. He’ll leave early for work, before you are awake. He goes to work every day to make money so we can have food, a house and other nice things.” One morning early, I walked into the bedroom after my shower, to find them both snuggled into our bed. I dressed for work quietly, in the dark and heard them talking.

Granddaughter: There’s granddaddy Kim… in the dark.
Grandmother: Yes. He knew we would be resting and didn't want to bother us. He’s thoughtful like that. He’ll go down and feed the dogs and let them out, too. So they can run up and join us for a snuggle. Isn’t it nice of him to do that for us?

So, as I’m thinking about how my life is impacting others, I’m hearing my wife tell my grandchild that I am a thoughtful, considerate provider. I've worked hard to be a lot of things: an excellent salesperson, a reliable employee, successful in business, an able public speaker, etc. But here I am, looking from the point of view of my family and I find that I am seen in a different light.

Provider. Considerate. Thoughtful. 

Honestly, that is an epitaph, be it written on the stone above my grave or on the folds of the hearts of those who remember me, which I can live and die with.

My Attitude Can Whip Your Attitude

“The greatest discovery of any generation is that a human being can alter his life by altering his attitude.” –William James

I spent 8 years in higher education (earn two degrees), 15 years beyond that as a pastor for a mainline denomination, and studied human psychology, pastor counseling and theology. It took a man with no more than a high school education and a background in construction to teach me something real about people, about me.

I was having a bad day and it wasn't even 10:00 am. I’d had an argument with my wife. My children were not behaving the way I wanted them to, and my work schedule for the day was so packed that I knew I wouldn't be able to get all of it done. My brain hurt, my back hurt and I pretty much hated everything and everybody at that moment.

My boss at the time took note of my bad attitude and asked me to come into his office. I did. He listened to my story and then paused before saying, “You have two choices this morning. You can stay pissed and have a sorry day, or you can do something about your attitude.” He reached in the desk drawer and handed me a card* that resembled one of those “do not disturb” door hangers. On the front and back were a series of saying, positive affirmations. He told me to take it and if I wanted to change my attitude to read the saying out load on the way to my first appointment for that day. My attitude wasn't very receptive. I thought of all the psychological cliques that I knew. I thought about how what I was going through was much bigger than a few clever and witty sayings. I thought of a hundred reasons why his suggestion was, at best, inadequate. I didn't challenge him. I took the card and headed for the truck. As I walked out of his office he said one more thing, “I bet you’re too chicken to try it.”

I smiled and for some reason warmed up to the idea of proving him wrong. On the way to my first appointment, I read them out load:

“I will win. Why? I’ll tell you why – because I have faith courage and enthusiasm.” 
“Today I will meet the right people in the right place at the right time for the betterment of all.” 
“I see opportunity in every challenge.”
“When I fail, I only look at what I did right.”

“I’ll never take advice from someone more messed up than I am.”

The readings continued, and so did the change in my attitude. There is great power in the words we speak to ourselves, and by the time I was done – I did feel better and begin to think on the things I could do to be effective and successful that day. I have never forgotten that lesson.

So, I believe who we are begins with what we believe and what we believe is created by what we do every day.

We Are Warriors - A Short Tale

The sun cast shadows upon the meadow, long tendrils entwining the branches of distant trees into a single shade.

The warrior sat upon a rock overlooking the rolling fields that lead to town and home, allowing his thoughts to cast their own shadows, collecting into one thought: "How much longer can I do this?"

With effort he lifted his weight and stood facing west. He felt the pain surge through his broken knee and the burn beneath newly forming scabs on his back. He stood and prayed aloud.

"Odin, my guard and guide. For 55 seasons I have lived. For 36 of these I have fought the Beast into submission, annually sending its weakened body and depleted spirit back into the caves to sleep and heal through the winter. I wield sword and shield in Your name and provide safety for my home, my family, my village. Each year I fail to destroy the Beast and like the certainty of each spring it returns. I am tired and wounded and this time I fear tired beyond this battle and wounded of not only body, but spirit. How long, Odin, how long can I continue?"

The warrior gave into his pain and stumbled to one knee, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword and brow upon his forearm. He could hear the music and singing beginning already, drifting across the darkening meadow in celebration of his victory. He knew better. He knew that the beast would live and in a few months they would renew their battle, and he doubted. He felt not only the pain of injuries that would heal, but the weakness in his limbs and mind that would not.

Tonight the village would sing. Tankers of ale would be hoisted in his honor. The voices of maidens would sing and young men would weave another chapter in the tale of his valor. Their Hero was invincible. The winter would be safe.

But next season would come.

A breeze lifted his thinning hair as he raised his head.

"Odin," He spoke almost a whisper, "Tonight we will celebrate. I will not worry about the aging of my bones, or the weakening of my strength. Tonight I will give you thanks for our victory, another year of safety. But, tomorrow I will not lift tankers of ale or songs. I will forget the victories of the past, and I will prepare for the battles to come. I will lift whetstone and blade, shield and arm and return back to the work of a warriors training. I will not quit. Odin, you have my word and my life."

As the last word drifted away on the breeze, a tired man stood and began walking to the village.

20+ Pinterest Pins for You!

For those of you on Pinterest, here's some photos you might enjoy sharing. They're mine -so no worries about copyrights. Take and use as you wish!

The Other Side of Kim - Kim the Preacher

Some of you may know that I spent 15 years as a pastor with a mainline denomination. It's true. I want to let the readers here know about a new blog I'm running to focus on matters of a religious and spiritual nature.

My thought, as my life has change in the decade since I left ordained ministry, is that there are things I wish I had said from the pulpit. No regrets - just a former pastor's way of sharing about crazed religion, absurd theology and hilarious stories. Let me invite you to WishfulPreaching.com. 

You can also find me on Twitter and Facebook.

2012 Goals

I think I'll pick these...

1. Celebrate today - everything we do, each moment we live is too precious to be treated as a passing fancy. I will better live in the now.

2. Laugh harder - there are too many minutes between belly laughs so intense that they make me cry.

3. Pray deeper - it is time to embrace an ancient and powerful oracle once again.

Sunday Coffee Cup - Bermuda

If I could find a way to live in the sea, I would. Swimming, snorkeling or diving in tropical waters is one of my deepest pleasures in life. There is something marvelous about being in the sea. I’ve thought about the experience and why it attracts me so: In part it is being suspended, held aloft in the thickness of the sea’s insulating waters. Perhaps it is the way the world – up there – seems to be left behind and a whole new world of colors, muffled sounds and elusive creatures appears. Maybe it is even the impending danger of surrendering to the risks of the wide open ocean. I love being in and around the sea.

There is one vacation destination I’ve traveled to more than any other - Bermuda. Bermuda is a British colony that sits alone in the vastness of the Atlantic Ocean. About 400 miles due east of North Carolina, Bermuda is an island less than 4 miles wide and about 24 miles long.  It is a great place for enjoying the ocean’s sights and sounds. Snorkeling and diving are easily accessible, and the aquatic adventurer is never disappointed.

Today’s Sunday Coffee cup is from The Lobster Pot, one of the local bar and restaurant spots. Every time I reach for this playful mug it brings with it serene memories of many hours spent basking in the salt, sun and scenes of Bermuda’s seas.

Sunday Cup of Coffee - North Carolina School of The Arts

Before there was The University of North Carolina School of the Arts, there was The North Carolina School of The Arts. 

That makes this week’s coffee mug a collector’s item. It bears the old school name.

The University of North Carolina School of the Arts is one of the few educational institutions offering High School, College and Graduate programs – all in one place. It is known nationally as one of the finer and more proven places to gain an art focused education. For those of us who live nearby, the many performances, concerts and shows make available a high level of talent and artistic expression right in our back yard.  

I’ve always thought of the School as one of the jewels in our crown, locally. Over the years I’ve been to hundreds of events from Shakespeare to Shepherd and Bach to Low and Lower.  From dance to drama, the UNC School of the Arts adds inspiration and magic to our community and to my Sunday Morning Cup of Coffee.

A Poem About Friendship

No Space Among Us

words anxiously spoken

falling upon one another

incessant

cascade

                full

pounding down

rocky words

after a while the constant sound

is

numbing

speech without pause

between thoughts

leaving

no gap for new ideas

reminding us of the precious

gems

of silence

between friends

________________________

Award Notice

Thank You to The Poetry Palace for the Perfect Poet Award, Week 54.

I nominate Paige for the next award.

Amazing 90 Year Old Voice

My Mother In Law - at 90 years old! Enjoy.

Finding Christmas in Volunteering

The ringing is incessant and then becomes a silent part of the constant din of noise – cars starting and driving off, and people hurrying by, captured in constant conversation about the last or next shopping destination. And there I stand, most of the times in the cold – always ringing the little brass bell.

I volunteer through my Rotary Club to ring the Salvation Army bell each year. Each year I hesitate to sign up for a couple of hours of standing in the cold. Each year I think of hundreds of other things I could be doing instead, and each year I sign-up to ring that little bell.

It happens to me every year. Somehow, as people walk by – a variety of faces, ages, economic classes – I see them acknowledge the bell and the bucket and what it represents: the presence of charity in our world. And as slowly and steadily breath brings life into my lungs, each time I speak to the passersby “Happy Holidays” or “Merry Christmas” I feel that elusive spirit of Christmas enter into my spirit and I know that beneath and behind all of the trappings of the holiday, people know , need and seek the blessing of Charity.

The ringing of that bell is when I find Christmas, every year and this year, on December 17th, I will did it again. Merry Christmas!

Garrison Keillor - Winston Salem, NC

Last evening I took advantage of a rare opportunity to enjoy one of the best story tellers of our generation, Garrison Keillor. The master of A Prairie Home Companion and troubadour of Lake Woebegone, Garrison Keillor knows how to weave a tale.

The Steven's Center was a delightful venue for the event. The stage front was set with a simple table, stool and microphone stand. Denise Franklin of our local public radio station, WFDD, offered a simple and respectful introduction of Mr. Keillor that set the stage complete with understated anticipation.

What followed was a well measured unleashing of humor, poignancy and inspiration as the baritone voice of Garrison sung and spoke story into our hearts. His humor was masterfully crafted right down to the black suit and white shirt that playfully gave way to a red tie, socks and sneakers: classic Keillor - refined and established tradition with a splattering of irreverence.

I had two take a ways this night: 1. Garrison's description of marriage as "A life time sentence to a relationship with your best informed critic." You have to love this. My wife and I looked at each other with instant agreement and bursting laughter. 2. The art of story is a dying art and if we lose this wonderful form of communication, if the digital snippets of media that bounce in and out of our awareness each day manage to capture so much of our attention that we no longer have the time or craving for the well turned phrase and a rambling illustration...then life will be diminished beyond reclamation.

If you have not had the pleasure of basking in the mastery of story as it is delivered - no, performed - by Garrison Keillor then reach out into this digital, instant gratification world and GET YOU SOME well paced, long rambling, heart stroking, laughter generating, life adoring STORY.

A Feast for the Heart

The evening was a perfect combination of timely ingredients. A feast to be remembered.

Take a beautifully renovated auditorium rooted in the early 1900's and fill it with musically gifted minds, voices and astute ears. Toss in a healthy portion of civic pride and humble appreciation. Then add a symphony of dedicated, rehearsed and talented musicians poised to exceed themselves. Let the anticipation brew. Add one vibrant conductor and then dare to introduce one of the finest and proven voices to grace a public stage. Feast.

Last evening I sat with family and friends and saw and heard the most wonderful musical performance of my life. Frankly, I am still stunned beyond words this morning. Renee' Fleming dared to visit this simple town and the reception and appreciation she was given was second only to her incomparable performance.

Thank you Renee' Fleming.

Thank you Winston-Salem Symphony, donors, sponsors, citizens and - lastly but foremost - my wife (she made me do it).

Details here.

Ordinary Man vs Happy Idiot

A few weeks back while mowing the lawn I concluded that everyone should want to be me.

Here's the scene. I'm pushing  the mower across the front lawn in 90+ degree heat, drenched with sweat, listening to some iPod music - exhausted - it occurs to me that I have a modest life. I have a modest home and car both with loans. I'm doing my own lawn work. I'm short, have arthritis, am going bald and I'm over 1/2 a century old. But here's the kicker - I'm deeply happy.

From the outside looking in you might miss it, but I have a wonderful, enjoyable, modest, ordinary life. More of my days are about peace, laughter, satisfaction and joy than not. Yes, I've concluded everyone should want to be me.

Of course, it could be I was permanently affected by the heat and am now just a "happy idiot." I like it.

10 Day Changers - #10

There are things I do and say that make my day great. This 10 day series is about those things.

10. Saying "I Thank You". When I say "I thank you" to others, I feel more grateful. Plus, when people hear the 'I" it impacts them more. People do care about others. When I let people know I respect and appreciate them, we all seem to fare better. So, I Thank You for being here today and for sharing in my little 10 Day Changers series.

10 Day Changers - #2

There are things I do and say that make my day great. This 10 day series is about those things.

2. Smile more. Do it now. Stretch that face with a big 'I'm up to something FUN" grin. I try to smile a lot every day. Yes, sometime people wonder what I'm up to, but more often than not - they smile with me. Who couldn't use a community of grinning people every day?

10 Day Changers - #1

There are things I do and say that help make my days great. This 10 day series is about those things.

1. Begin with some silence. Each morning after I shower, dress and am ready for the day, I sit for a minute or two in the chair by the bed. With my eyes close, I remind myself of why I am living today, of the things that are important, truly important to me. Then I ask the Divine to make me aware of the design for my life and give me power to carry it out.

10 Things You Learn When You're Home Alone

My wife is traveling in Europe. While I am enjoying the time alone at home, I'm learning some interesting things:

1. Brown clothing is best washed in the dark load.

2. We use a lot of water on the plants - Thirsty little things.

3. A fish can go days without being fed, apparently (note to self - feed fish)

4. There are many things I obviously don't remember without a reminder.

5. I really don't read the newspaper - I just bring it inside.

6. Absence (abstinence?) does make the heart grow fonder.

7. I will eat about anything if it is handy, doesn't smell rotten or look too fuzzy.

8. My dogs are neurotic and needy (another note - feed the dogs).

9. Things get dusty.

10. I like the bed being made before I climb in at night.

A Glimpse at My Weekend

Top Five FAILS You're Doing in Life - Number 1

A quick series of posts on the 5 things that are "DONT'S" in life, in descending order. I know this for a fact. Let's just leave it at that.

1. Failure to Dream Your Dream.

At the heart of our life is the passion we carry for life itself - our dreams. Too often we get busy doing and don't take the time to be - to believe in ourselves and what is important to us. Who or what cause is of core importance to you? What are your forgotten passions?

Penitence for this loss of dreaming is as follows. Remember that time when you tingled with lie and joy? Write it down right now. Capture in words on paper that moment of life and promise yourself you will find it again. Then, complete this little exercise by sharing that moment with someone else (maybe even here in the comments).