Man's Search for Meaning

Everyone has his own specific vocation or mission in life; everyone must carry out a concrete assignment that demands fulfillment. Therein he cannot be replaced, nor can his life be repeated, thus, everyone's task is unique as his specific opportunity to implement it.    - Victor E. Frankl

Man's Search for Meaning tells the chilling and inspirational story of eminent psychiatrist Viktor Frankl, who was imprisoned at Auschwitz and other concentration camps for three years during the Second World War. Immersed in great suffering and loss, Frankl began to wonder why some of his fellow prisoners were able not only to survive the horrifying conditions, but to grow in the process. Frankl's conclusion - that the most basic human motivation is the will to meaning...     

I am not sure if I have found meaning. in my life...maybe glimpses. I do remember reading Man's Search For Meaning like it was yesterday. St. James Cathedral offered a monthly book group, and this was the featured reading. I usually do not write in books. I underlined. I highlighted.

It was not the meaning I found or that was assigned to my life. I have not endured the suffering Frankl or others have had in their lives.I believe it continues to be the gifts I have been given through having God in my life.

I have been given the gifts of perseverance and God's love if I accept it.

What is the meaning you have found in your life? What are the gifts you have realized?

You are Part of Us

I offer this prayer to our Jewish Brothers and Sisters. It is We Remember Them by Rabbi Jack Riemer and Sylvan Kamen.

I have rewritten the poem as response prayer -especially to honor my Grandma Ruby Kirby. I post in now in honor and remember you, the Jewish community. You are part of us. .

At the rising of the sun and at its going down

We remember them.

At the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter

We remember them.

At the opening of the buds and in the rebirth of spring

We remember them.

At the blueness of the skies and in the warmth of summer

We remember them.

At the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn

We remember them.

At the beginning of the year and when it ends

We remember them.

As long as we live, they too will live;

for they are now a part of us

as we remember them.

When we are weary and in need of strength

We remember them.

When we are lost and sick at heart

We remember them.

When we have joy we crave to share

We remember them.

When we have decisions that are difficult to make

We remember them.

When we have achievements that are based on theirs

We remember them.

As long as we live, they too will live;

for they are now a part of us

as we remember them.

© Jewish Prayer Book

The Sound of Silence

In the darkness of my living room with no early natural morning light and illuminated by a small candle’s flickering flame, I reflected upon Seattle’s photographer, Conor Musgrave’s shot of Kerry Park, where tourist trickle in Ten thousand people, maybe more.

An earworm burrowed in my head with the words of the opening of Simon & Garfunkel’s song,
The Sound of Silence:

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

Paul Simon wrote this song is a time of turbulence and a time of change.  The lyrics continued to resonate within my head as I starred through the photograph and imagined standing alone in the silence of the early morning light, wondering do I belong in Seattle… no more but where would I go? There is no open door.

Lost in my desert as I thirst throughout the day as the sun pounds down up the pavement through the drizzle of Seattle rain, I slowly move forward step-by step as more lyrics permeate my brain.

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence…

I will go on my way and look up, look out, look inward and not look to a false idol but to my God without display and silently pray.

May each of us find our way in the change of each today.

I Found Jesus at the Green Stamp Store

S&H Green Stamps

I realized that we did not have financial means growing up. My dad worked a full and a part-time job. I wore the crossed the street neighbor girl’s hand me downs. The clothes may have been hand me downs to her. My mom returned the clothes once I outgrew them. Her little sister then wore them.

I asked my parents for an allowance. My mom said that I could have the Green Stamps after our weekly trip to the Maloley’s Grocery Store in Gateway Plaza on the Goshen Road in Fort Wayne, Indiana. That’s when stores were closed on Sundays.

This was an exciting time. I licked the stamps and carefully placed them in the book. The Green Stamp books came apart. So I waited for the even newspaper carrier to deliver the paper into the blue The News-Sentinel box. The newspaper was delivered with a rubber band around it. B-I-N-G-O! The pages stayed together.

I now had a treasure trove of Green Stamps. It was a family outing to go to the grocery store because my mom did not drive. I carefully looked around the far perimeter of the store. A beautiful picture caught my eye. The picture had a fake brass frame with a built in light. Once the picture frame was plugged in, there was a small dial that clicked and turned the light on and off. I had to have this item, and I did not know the man in the picture.

My mom walked over to me with a skillet. I looked at the beautiful picture frame. I looked back at my mom and the skillet. I looked at her and pointed to the picture. My mom said to the lady behind the counter that I would like the picture. I was never so happy.

I gave my mom the remainder of the green stamps. She could use the Green Stamps another day.

Once we arrived home, my dad walked with me to our downstairs area in our home. It was paneled with a shelf that came out from the wall and beneath it was an electrical outlet.

I sat on a big floor pillow, and I felt like I was a character from “I Dreamed of Jeannie.” I then turned the picture frame on after dark. I sat there in the glow of the small light. When I could not sleep and the family was in their dreamland, I would quietly go downstairs and turn the light on and stare at the photo of this unknown man.

I found a picture of the man when we begun in Sunday school at Wallen Hills Methodist Church.  I quietly asked one of the adults, Who is this man?  

I found Jesus at the Green Stamp store.

My Valentine's Day

This photograph is full of light in the First Hill neighborhood of Seattle. Homeless live below the trees and the sounds of vehicles and fumes fill the air from I-5. Seattle City Housing is located on the other side, and the trauma hospital is in front on Ninth Avenue.

I wrote a piece on the Living Stones Ministries Rock On! blog for Valentine’s Day, titled, “Who was St. Valentine?” at http://livingstonesministriesrockon.blogspot.com/2017/02/who-was-st-valentine.html. The sky was dark over Seattle and rain poured down on Valentine’s Day. St. Valentine epitomizes light and love. How can I shed some light and share some love? I packed up hand knitted hats and new tube socks and handed them out to those in need on warmth. (And more than 100 were handed out.)  My Valentine’s was living the scripture: Love your neighbor as yourself. – Mark 12:31 (NIV)  I stood at the top of the wet concrete stairs and residents from down below and from the housing came for hats and socks. There’s nothing like loving your neighbor.

Thank You, Rabbi Hillel

Capitol Hill Neighborhood, Seattle, WA

A delivery truck was the roadblock to my forward motion down the neighborhood street that I have traveled many times throughout the years. I sat patiently. I turned my head. I looked at the building and read. I was given a gift.

Trash Talk Leads to Teachings

As I skimmed through my high school yearbook last evening, I had forgotten about my involvement with the Ecology Club. I participated for a total of 3-years, and I was the president the last two years. How was I elected to this post? Maybe it was trash talk. The Ecology Club must have impacted me because the other day as I sat in my car with the rain pouring down and as I prepared for a meeting, I noticed a couple in the vehicle next to me as they ate their lunches. The driver rolled down his window and dropped their garbage out as they finished each individual item. I glared at the driver, and he smiled through the rain covered window. I finally exited my car after the third littering. I slowly exited my car with my cane (dramatic effect). I picked up all of their litter and knocked on the driver side window. The window came down. I handed him the trash, and I said, I believe this is yours. Let’s please leave our world a better place for the next generation. The driver exited his car, and he walked his litter to the trash receptacle that was on the sidewalk directly in front of his vehicle. It was worth my rain drenched appearance for my afternoon meeting.

I thank the Ecology Club for my teachings, and it is time for some more trash talk.

Were you raised to use this language?

https://www.shutterstock.com/search/bad+words

I was raised to have respect through my language with others, not to pepper my vernacular with %#*&!!%.

I visited an upscale neighborhood establishment one night a couple of weeks ago. This young man was using offensive language as he talked about his job as he sat at a table directly behind me with his chair hitting mine. I asked him which restaurant he worked. I asked him his name. He was pleased and I thought I would come to his work and sit in his section. I replied. "No." I gave him a TIP: The way you talk outside of your work environment is disrespectful. Why would I leave you a tip for being inauthentic in your work environment? I deserve more and so do others.

An elderly man was in the dumpy little store yelled obscenities at the woman behind the counter. I said, I believe in respecting my elders. I do not respect you. You want the cigarettes with the animal. Here is the camel. He back pedaled and stated, “I apologize to you. My remarks were directed at her.” We had a discussion.

I sat with my 95-year old neighbor at the hospital last week. I decided to relax and have dinner on the way home. The two women next to me used colorful words as they complained about their leadership jobs at a local hospital. I slowly climbed down from my high chair, which was next to their table. I put on my coat and gripped my cane. I looked directly at both women. I said, I was not ease dropping. I only heard specific words loud and clear. You have work. A great opportunity to lead. Always use your words and actions as respect and maybe just maybe you will receive the respect you deserve. You have great opportunities ahead.

I turned and slowly walked towards the exit. The one woman came after me. She asked, Do you come here often? Without pause, she said, I would like you to meet my 1-1/2 year old son. I am not sure why she me wanted me to meet her son. Perhaps she was not sure what to say. It is not for me to analyze.
Are these words verbs, nouns or adjectives? I am not sure. I am sure of one thing that I do not like this language change.  Remember, you cannot take back words because they show your true character.

Who was St. Valentine?

St. Peter Orthodox Church, Bonita Springs, FL

The commercialization of Valentine’s Day had me asking : Where did Valentine’s originate? Who is cupid and is he someone’s sidekick or a main character? I Googled and searched the history as I forgot about Cupid, who I will learn more about next year.

This St. Valentine fellow enamored me without Cupid’s arrow.  St. Valentine was beheaded. Really? Why do we have a St. Valentine’s Day because a beheading does not sound like love.  He was love.

The Saint had a reputation as a peacemaker, and one day while cultivating some roses from his garden, he heard a couple quarrel very vigorously. This shocked the Saint, who then cut a rose and approached the couple asking them to hear him. Even though they were dispirited, they obeyed the Saint and afterwards were offered a rose that blessed them. Immediately the love returned between them, and later they returned and asked the Saint to bless their marriage. Another tradition says that one of the charges against Valentine was that he did not adhere to the command of the emperor which stated that men who had not fulfilled their military obligations were not allowed to marry; meanwhile the Saint had blessed the marriage of young Christian soldiers with their beloveds.

St. Valentine was a man of faith and lived the word of God as illustrated in 1John 3:16-18 (AMP):  ¹⁶ By this we know [and have come to understand the depth and essence of His precious] love: that He [willingly] laid down His life for us [because He loved us]. And we ought to lay down our lives for the believers. ¹⁷ But whoever has the ^[a]world’s goods (adequate resources), and sees his brother in need, but has no compassion for him, how does the love of God live in him? ¹⁸ Little children (believers, dear ones), let us not love [merely in theory] with word or with tongue [giving lip service to compassion], but in action and in truth [in practice and in sincerity, because practical acts of love are more than words].

The above scripture teaches about love and defines it . It is necessary to share love through our actions and helping others in need. How do you share your love with others each day?

Let us pray…Father I pray that I would not love merely in theory or in speech but in deed and truth, in sincerity.   Adapted from 1John 3:18, The  Everyday Living Bible

To learn more about St. Valentine, go to: http://stpeterorthodoxchurch.com/who-was-st-valentine/ or visit the Source: Mystagogy.

Building Relationships

I have reflected on the comic, Pickles from last week’s newspaper, and I am grateful for growing up in a small neighborhood, named Edgewood Park in Fort Wayne surrounded by cornfields, the old Fortmeyer's Truck stop one way and the Wayne Feeds was up the road in the opposite direction. We built forts, played in the woods, built and rode our bikes off ramps to name a few things.

I played army with Tom in the vacant lot. Why was he always the commander and chief?

The Govin’s lived across the street. Rita, What about your Dad’s Cricket car? Rita was a good driveway driver with me as the passenger. We learned there's emergency brakes for a reason.

The Todd sister’s lived next door: Laura​, Connie and Nancy​... need I say more? Laura, I never found myself as funny as others found me.

I spent time with the Walker family – especially with Joy and Cathy and our friend, Kathy​. I cannot believe we joined 4-H.  I really wanted to join Future Farmer’s for the cool jacket with the patches. I did not join because I wanted so badly to use farm equipment and I was told, No!

Peggy's mom taught some of us to make pies from scratch on a rainy Saturday afternoon. I have not made a pie since but I received my Girl Scout badge.

As a kid some of us saved our little bit of money earned from babysitting or mowing lawn, we rode our bikes to Old Fortmeyer's and ate lunch with the truck drivers at the counter. I then walked or rode my bike to Wayne Feeds and bought something from the old cooler. I hung out with the farmers. We never locked up our bikes.

I am glad to have a computer and Facebook to reconnect and stay connect with my Edgewood Park friends. It’s good to have lifetime relationships, no matter the miles.

These Boots are Made for Walking

Who is Nancy Sinatra? About 6-years ago I sang These Boots Are Made for Walkin' for karoke. I had my younger neighbors as my back up dancers. They had not heard of Shelley Fabares' Johnny Angel. Of course, I sang it for my friend John at the First Hill Bar & Grill. The kicker was at the grocery story when a clerk asked, Who's Mary Tyler Moore? (Gasp!) Before I moved to Seattle, Wahsington, I trapped my co-workers in my car with the windows up and a/c on. (I love the child proof locks.) I played my cassette tape with the opening song from her television show. I played the same cassette and danced around in my neighbor's drive way when I arrived in Seattle from Fort Wayne, Indiana as I threw my hat in the air. All I have are memories like many of our residents. The lyrics from the song, Memory performed in the musical Cats inspired by the poetry of T.S. Eliot illustrate as I wonder how many remember the words or Betty Buckley. Memory, all alone in the moonlight I can dream of the old days Life was beautiful then I remember the time I knew what happiness was Let the memory live again...