As colder weather rolls into Michigan, I am reminded how much I dislike it. But it occurs to me that I haven’t always disliked it. In fact, I’m pretty sure I used to love playing in the snow and staying out in the cold until my extremities were numb and snotsicles bridged the gap between my nostrils and upper lip.  And it wasn’t too long ago that I remember poking fun at my dad and other ‘old people’ because of their intolerance of the cold and propensity to leave us all behind as they fled south for months at a time.  Deep down I’m sure it was just envy…for not having the freedom myself to disappear to the land of milk and honey (or is it Geritol and ginger-ale?) for months at a time.  And although I don’t see him nearly as often as I should in the months he’s nearby, the bigger reason for my deflections-disguised-as-harassment-about-the-weather is simply that I miss him while he’s so far away.  Perhaps a little reluctant to admit I am starting share his disdain for the cold, too.

It’s true…as if right on schedule to reinforce the irony of it all, I am finding the older I get, the less I care for the cold.  And the more I’m saddened to say that I, too, may soon appreciate the simplicity of Velcro shoes and the golf cart as a primary mode of transit.  So as I try to do in other areas of my life (at least better than I used to), I am taking a hard look at why I have done things, why I do things, or why I feel the way I do about certain things.  Nature’s changing season is just the latest timely reminder of my own changing nature.

In the Midwest, the thick heat of summer gives way to the crispness of autumn air.  It blesses us with the splendor of colorful leaves, tastes of cider, and the smell of pumpkin spice.  Another blessing of this change in season is the transition itself.  Not only does the transition prepare the environment for the harshness of winter, it similarly prepares us by moving our bodies from dramatic heat to bitter cold by gradual acclimation as we pass through a milder autumn.

So what’s the problem?  With that reasoning I should have no problem acclimating to the biting wind, cold, snow, and other extremes of winter.  I think one the things it boils down to is preparation; wearing the right clothes the right way, having the right equipment and resources, and having the right attitude.  I have concluded that when facing extremes – whether in life, temporary circumstances, or environment – an increase in discomfort often involves a decrease in (or lack of) preparation.

Consider this.  If you grew up in a ‘four-season’ part of the world, you probably had a mom, dad, grandparent or other adult who bundled you up like the Michelin Man before going out in the cold, making you virtually impervious to the elements.  I remember everything from the mittens attached by a string running from one sleeve to another, to wearing bread bags on my feet inside my boots to keep my feet toasty and dry (personally I think my mom was conducting some early study in the greenhouse effect with those bags).  But those things worked.  Buttoned up, zipped up, no exposed skin.  Hats, mittens, scarfs, the right coat, pants, socks, boots, and long underwear.  You could stay out for hours and not be bothered by the coldest of days.  Even now, when I actually wear appropriate clothing and accessories for the conditions, the weather really doesn’t bother me so much.

The problem is I usually don’t.  I don’t prepare properly.  I don’t wear the nice warm stocking cap because it will mess up my hair.  I don’t wear the thick socks and warm boots because they’re cumbersome, uncomfortable, and it’s just a pain to change into other shoes when I get to my destination.  I seldom wear gloves, scarf, or even zip my coat up.  Is it any wonder I have started to dislike cold weather?  I should either dress for the weather or stop complaining about it.  And while I think there are a few other lessons we can take from this, I want to keep this at a reasonable length, respecting your time and attention.  So with the assurance to continue this subject in a second part soon to come, let me wrap up with these points.

In the same way the changing seasons prepare us for more extreme conditions yet to come, and properly outfitting ourselves prepares us for the extreme conditions we venture out into, properly preparing ourselves mentally, physically, emotionally, psychologically, and socially can help us through some of the extreme conditions of life.

Until the next edition, prepare for the changing season by bundling up, wrapping up, zipping up, breaking out your bread bags, and above all never forgetting how much fun it was to be a child.  Keep that youthful spirit alive!

To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven (Ecclesiastes 3.1)

Get Strong.  Be Strong.  Stay Strong.

Stand fast is defined, in part, as to firmly remain in the same position or cease all action immediately.  I’ve heard it widely used in military life in a few contexts, the most common to me of waiting to move after a preparatory command was already given…sometimes seemingly as if to test the formation to see who’s going to be the one to flinch: “Flight, Attention!  Forward…Stand Fast!”  You don’t want to be the one who false starts and then fumbles around trying to reset as if no one noticed the ONLY body cavorting around in a sea of stalwarts.

For this article, the standing fast to which I refer is similar, but more akin to standing firm…in strength, power, resoluteness, faith; the kind of strength to carry on when it would be easier to just roll over.  It’s the kind of strength that when the whole world or the gallery of so-called experts, know-it-alls, or haters (as today’s generation might call them) tells you to just give up and get out of the way, you stand firm and say “No, you move…I’m not giving up…I’m strong…I’m a survivor…I’m a conqueror.”  Standing firm in this way takes a different kind of strength than we typically think of.

A recent quiet time illustrated two divergent types of strength – active and passive – that might help clarify my point.  As I thought through the author’s analogies and applied them to my own life, I began to appreciate the need for each at different times in our lives.  The author, Harold Cooke Phillips, said it better than I ever could, so I’ll let him handle this.

“Sometimes nothing is harder in life than just to endure.  There are two types of of strength.  There is the strength of the wind that sways the mighty oak, and there is the strength of the oak that withstands the power of the wind.  There is the strength of the locomotive that pulls the heavy train across the bridge, and there is the strength of the bridge that holds up the weight of the train.  One is active strength, the other is passive strength; one is the power to keep going, the other is the power to keep still; one the strength by which we overcome, the other is the strength by which we endure.”

Sixteen years ago, a healthy, active 13 year old attended his local county fair to watch the motocross races.  He left the fair in a helicopter, critically injured, unconscious, with a depressed skull fracture and his life would never be the same.

This young man is one of my nephews.  He and another spectator were struck by an out-of-control cycle that left the track.  When my dad’s call woke me in the middle of that July night and he told me what happened, he said things ‘didn’t look good’.  My nephew remained critical and comatose for weeks.  He was ultimately transferred to a renowned rehabilitation hospital where he eventually regained consciousness.

Through faith, prayers, amazing staff, rigorous physical and speech therapy, and his incredible resilience, he finally started to look at people, move his lips, and comprehend things again. He gradually improved, spending many months in a wheelchair, followed by a walker (neither of which he uses today).  Through God’s amazing healing power, tremendous medical care, his incredible strength, and the loving support of many, he eventually went home.  In June 2007, my nephew graduated with honors from high school and later from Michigan Career & Technical Institute.

The damage his brain suffered from the injury had lasting effects on his speech and his right extremities, but that doesn’t slow him down.  He’s a husband and father, and is as fun-loving and quick-witted as ever.  He is strong, hard-working, and an inspiration to me and many others because of the person he is and the example he sets with his huge smile and easy-going disposition.  Every chance he gets, he goes out of his way to text, call, or visit with friends and family.  While it was tough early on to see the impact this had on him and his family, I am so proud of the man he has become.  Some of the things I truly enjoy in life are the rare occasions to lock arms with him to help navigate a set of stairs or other challenging terrain, and being the recipient of the smiles, hugs,  and “I love you”s that he unashamedly doles out…the way more of us should.

My nephew’s life has been a case study in both the strength to endure and the strength to overcome mentioned above.  He continues to be one of the strongest people I know.

“The physical strength of a person must always be added to the strength of his or her soul and power for marshaling the resources of truth, righteousness, and love.” – J. Richard Spann

Get Strong.  Be Strong.  Stay Strong.

It is my honor to dedicate this article during National Disability Employment Awareness Month to him and all those who stand strong and persevere through their disabilities, setting an example for us all.

https://www.dol.gov/odep/topics/ndeam/index-2018.htm

Hunsberger, E. & Nygaard, N. (2002). Strength for service: daily devotional messages for those in the service of others updated edition. Franklin, TN: Providence House.

In the difficult times, it is what is in you that comes out of you. I wrote those words down as soon I heard Don Denyes say them a few months ago.  Then I promptly forgot them. That is until two days ago.

Two days ago, I attended a local high school graduation ceremony with a thousand or so others. High school graduations are always a bit poignant as we wish our children and their friends well, anticipating the great things they will do to make the world a better place. And perhaps as we reminisce a bit about our own graduation so many years ago…contemplating whether we upheld our end of the bargain in making a difference in the world.

This school and these graduating seniors have already triumphed greatly and will no doubt continue to do great things.  Four Salutatorians and six Valedictorians were poised to speak to their fellow classmates and the many friends and family members on hand…quite possibly the largest audience most of them will ever have the honor (or horror) of addressing. It was remarkable. But we were about to witness something even more remarkable.

The day before the ceremony, a Thursday, I ran into a friend coming out of the barbershop as I was walking in. Jon and I used to play softball together and his dad, a pastor, was a friend and helped me through some tough times.  Jon and I have a common friend with whom he now works.  We made small talk and chatted about a promotion I didn’t know he had gotten.  Everything seemed great. The next day I had lunch with our common friend and told him I’d seen Jon.  He asked if Jon was doing ok.  It seems Jon’s pastor had been tragically killed in an automobile crash just the day before our barbershop run-in.  My first question was whether it was his father.  I was relieved to discover it was not, but as is common for me – and concrete evidence of my attention deficit – I found myself wondering why Jon doesn’t attend his dad’s church?

Nevertheless, I was saddened to learn of the untimely death of this local pastor.  He was a well-known, well-loved, and well-respected local man of God, and the community collectively grieved as news of this tragedy spread across the area.

Back to the graduation. You see, one of the class Valedictorians happens to be the son of this pastor.  As I looked over the program and compared the lineup of speakers seated on stage waiting to take their turn, the order didn’t match.  I silently acknowledged to myself how difficult that would have been to participate in a public graduation ceremony just two days after the unexpected death of someone as close as a father or mother, and then symbolically excused him from being there in my mind with sympathetic understanding.  The pastor’s son was the only male Valedictorian, and according to the program would have been the fourth Valedictorian to speak, had this tragedy not befallen his family.  So it was that I then found myself wondering who the lone young man was seated at the end of the row of five female Valedictorians.  Was this someone not listed in the program set to receive unknown special recognition?  Or were my eyes simply deceiving me?  Maybe I had miscounted the remaining honorees, since they also had the Salutatorians seated in the same row.

No. The order had been changed.  I, along with over a thousand others in the concert auditorium, were about to witness one of the most inspiring things many people have probably ever experienced.  The final person to speak would be an incredible young man whose father unexpectedly died just two days earlier.

He did all the things a good public speaker is supposed to do. He stood tall. He made good eye contact. He captivated the audience. He was clear, concise, and delivered an oration that was moving and insightful.  I wept, with pride and anguish, as I expect many in attendance that evening did.  This remarkable young man calmly told us his father recently passed away.  He spoke of the honor and dignity with which his father lived.  He spoke unapologetically about the love of God, family, and community his father displayed and instilled in him as he grew.  He told us how his father, just days prior, was helping him with his speech and shared a verse with him.  He was no doubt preparing his son not only to reach those listening to his speech, but for a life of service beyond graduation.  Little did he know how profound this verse would be just days later… “Have I not commanded you?  Be strong and of good courage; do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.”  Joshua 1:9 is a life-verse to many.  It is frequently quoted, memorized, shared on social media, scrawled in graffiti, and tattooed on people’s bodies as a reminder that even in the most difficult or challenging times, we can be strong and courageous because we are never alone.

The kind of strength we witnessed when a grieving, graduating high school Valedictorian chose to not only attend his graduation (when no one would blame him for not doing so), but to courageously deliver his speech and use that opportunity to reach others as a proxy of God’s glory is truly going beyond strength.  I want to be more like him.

Get Strong.  Be Strong.  Stay Strong