Last year I posted a story about the decision by a Wisconsin elementary school to rewrite the lyrics of “Silent Night” to make it acceptable for the “winter program”. The unfortunate choice for a new title was “Cold in the Night”. And the new lyrics went something like this. Cold in the night, no one in sight, winter winds whirl and bite, how I wish I were happy and warm, safe with my family out of the storm.That is wrong on so many levels. Why not just have the kids sing “Grandma got run over by a reindeer” and go on home. Some things just shouldn’t be done. It is like the old Jim Croce song…”you don’t tug on Superman’s cape, you don’t spit into the wind, you don’t pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger, and you don’t rewrite Silent Night” (New Revised Version). Rereading that post brought to mind a legend I had heard all of my life involving the real song “Silent Night” and
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Ronald Reagan had a favorite joke that he told so often that the joke itself became a joke with staff members. A CBS News piece related the story as remembered by former Reagan aide Ed Meese. The joke was told about twin boys who were six years old. Worried that the boys had developed extreme personalities — one was a total pessimist, the other a total optimist — their parents took them to a psychiatrist. First the psychiatrist treated the pessimist. Trying to brighten his outlook, the psychiatrist took him to a room piled to the ceiling with brand-new toys. But instead of yelping with delight, the little boy burst into tears. “What’s the matter?” the psychiatrist asked, baffled. “Don’t you want to play with any of the toys?” “Yes,” the little boy bawled, “but if I did I’d only break them.” Next the psychiatrist treated the optimist. Trying to dampen his out look, the psychiatrist took him to a room
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This Thursday most Americans will sit down to the ridiculous excess that we call Thanksgiving dinner. I will be one of them. If my pattern continues I will eat too much of the wonderful food prepared by my bride. I will probably complain that I ate too much as if that is anyone’s fault other than my own. I will be genuinely thankful for having my family together. That will be extra special this year because Joni’s cancer is a reminder that such gatherings are not guaranteed. I will thank God for the bounty of food that will be before us. But I don’t think I will really comprehend how blessed I am to be a citizen of the United States. A story that I read in the Miami Herald gave me a big helping of perspective as I look forward to Thanksgiving Day. Streaks of grime cover the boys’ bodies and insects crawl on their heads as they scour through heaps of trash
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As I navigate through our increasingly more bizarre culture I alternate between laughing and crying. Yesterday I found out that our government has decided to redefine the plight of poor families in our country. For the thirty-three million Americans without enough money to buy food or families in which parents skip meals so their children can eat are now labeled as having “very low food security.” The experts feel that the term “hungry” does really describe their situation. I think these bureaucrats have “very low common sense capacity”. Hungry describes the situation for too many people in this country. I realized that we do the same thing as followers of Jesus. Because we don’t want to offend anyone we manage to do exactly what the government is doing. We have “very low truth and grace security”. The late Howard Cosell signature phrase was “telling it like it is”. Our culture seems increasingly less capable of calling simple concepts by their name. Our politically correct society
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The daily ramblings have recently featured a little dialogue between father and son. Eldest son Matt has allowed me to post our discussion on some questions he is pondering. If you would like to catch up the series started when Matt had a thought provoking, soul-searching encounter with a homeless man in Salt Lake City. I responded to some of his questions about being more transparent, pride, and the challenge of finding real friends. Here is Matt’s response to the first round of the dialogue. Dad, First, I love the dialogue.  It’s a little more public than I would prefer but I appreciate the opportunity for a son to engage his father in the deeper things of life.  Thanks for taking the time. The other night Holly and I were discussing this premise of authentic relationships.  (Before you think we are the intellectual types this conversation was jammed between recorded episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and ER).  She looked at me with cute
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Eldest son Matt posed a series of questions recently that I have addressed in two previous blogs. I just received a follow-up from him that I will address in the days to come. It is fun, challenging, and a little annoying to have your progeny make you think this deeply. Matt is a bit uncomfortable with the public nature of the dialogue and I can understand that. I have several years of public declaration that I am an idiot saved by grace who is currently engaged in a fumbling, bumbling stagger to the finish line. It is a relief to acknowledge that simple fact and I found that, for me, that declaration was a turning point in my journey. Today the question posed by Matt involves friendships. Why can’t all friendships feel this freedom and openness and even honesty about our ugliness? Hey Matt, Real friends are a treasure. I know you have probably read all of the works of 17th century French classical author François
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Last week I had the first response to Eldest Son Matt’s questions about his encounter with a homeless man named Brett on a recent trip to Salt Lake City. Matt relayed the emotional and gut level prayer that Brett prayed for him. I asked to pray for him (Brett) and said a generic prayer of protection, hope, forgiveness, and provision of resources. I reached for my wallet again and he stopped me. He asked to pray for me. He prayed a beautifully inarticulate prayer with his raspy broken voice, “Matt, I pray you will not do drugs like I have. I pray your children love you and accept you. I pray your woman will love you and stay with you. I pray that you have a home, job, and food. I thank you for not being scared of me and talking to me. I pray that we can see each other again.” Did you see it? He prayed that I wouldn’t be
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