I’m always on the lookout for a good angle for the next Observations post.

Becky and I have been working with an Afghan refugee family as they settle into life in the United States.  It has been a rich and good experience for us.

Last Saturday I was at the BMV (what they call the DMV in Indiana) with our friend as we tried to resolve a registration issue with the car he had recently purchased.  How better to integrate into American life than by owning a car?  This was our second or third round at trying to solve our problem.  This BMV official was very helpful.  We would have to go back to the dealer who apparently had not filed paperwork properly.

It being a Saturday, I emailed our contact at the dealership  and received an immediate and encouraging response.  “I can supply you with an Indiana title correction affidavit form on Monday and that will be sufficient to process the title work.  We appreciate your business and your patience. We apologize for the clerical error on our end. Hope you have a wonderful rest of your weekend sir.” Wow, “back to you Monday.”  Even a real apology. So much for those used car salesman stereotypes.  The honest used car salesman. That would make for a good Observations post.

Trouble is that Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday came and went.  More emails.  Follow-up phone calls and no title correction affidavit.

Yeah, never trust a used car salesman. Continue reading →

Becky and I have just finished a three-week grandparenting marathon that took us from Auburn to Memphis to Whiteman Air Force Base in western Missouri back to Auburn with two of our grandchildren and then to Missouri and back to return said grandchildren to their parents.  Oh, and there were children and children-in-law thrown into the mix.

We are happy to be home in our quiet house, but the wave of mild melancholy was undeniable when I went into the spare bedroom and saw the stuffed animals (from our stash) left on the unmade bed as we left early for our return trip to Missouri.

We are in a good season of life. Thanks be to God. Continue reading →

Becky and I have returned from our Memphis to Missouri grandparent run (with two grandchildren still with us until next week when we make the return trip to Missouri).  It was and is a wonderful way to spend some hot summer days.

On the trip from Missouri with Esther and Gideon, we listened to C.S. Lewis’ “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.”  Such familiar and good words.  What joy to know of the deeper magic from before the dawn of time.

Back in Missouri the literary tastes of almost-three-year-old Micah tended toward the story of Fireman Small and, new to me, “The Little Blue Truck.”  I may have had the story of Fireman Small read to me when I was three.  “The Little Blue Truck” is one of those children’s books with a message for its three-year-old audience.  In the story, Blue, the little truck, is always a good friend to the farm animals he meets on the road.  One day Big Dump, an arrogant and proud truck with important things to do, rumbles down the road ignoring horse, cow, duck, goat, sheep, and chicken.  When he gets stuck in the mud, there is no one to help – save Blue who summons his friends to push and shove until Dump is free from the mud. Continue reading →

Grandchildren are the crown of the aged,
and the glory of children is their fathers.

Proverbs 17:6

Yes.

The patient’s health had not been good for a long time, and now it seemed as if all the different concerns had conspired against him.  To treat one issue was to aggravate another. The physician was so attentive to the needs of the patient and caring for his wife.  But the weight of disease had become too much for the fragile life to bear.

Being present at the time of death is both an obligation and a privilege of the pastor’s calling.

When the patient died, it was more than a professional disappointment for the physician. Her sorrow seemed genuine, and you could see the compassion in her eyes as she turned to the wife.  Unfortunately, she did say something self-justifying about having done all she could and how sick he was when he was admitted to the hospital, but mostly she was trying to convey comfort to the just-now widow.  She did not use the word, however.  She did not say “died” or “death.”

“Mary, Bob is dead,” I said, simply because Mary was not able to understand the kind but veiled words the good doctor was using.  And then grief flooded that small room in the ICU. Continue reading →