When all else fails!

Not wanting to be sexist, but in my experience men have a tendency to look at the world differently than women.  Men have a tendency to look at a puzzle, a problem, an obstacle, a task or even something that needs to be fixed and see not the solution but a methodology to accomplish the task and view it as a challenge to his masculinity. “Don’t confuse me with instructions, directions or even advice, I’ll make this work,” is the mantra of the manly psych.

This problem with this methodology of attack, this course of action, is  this may well accomplish the end, a great number of the instances of the implementation of overwhelming force seems to have less than perfect results.  For that matter, they sometimes become utter failures.

The difference in results has always been directly relational to my over estimation of my own ability and ignorance.  The mantra changes to, “Don’t confuse me with facts, my mind is made up.”  Or even worse, “the solution that I have worked out is a better solution.”  And it does not matter if it needed vast quantities of super glue or duct tape.

Even with overwhelming numbers of failures, we often just keep on going.  “Never surrender, never give up.”  “I don’t need driving directions, I am not lost, I am just exploring.”

I would surmise from this hard headed, stubborn frame of life and its problems, it is often harder for men to simply, “trust and obey.”  To allow God to give us direction.  To allow guidance from the divine to measure and construct our lives.

Years and years ago a favored saint presented a reading.  He was a retired actor from Hollywood.  His name was Knobby Schaefer.  He had numerous small parts in movies in the past and he had moved up to the big woods of Idaho to get away from the hectic life of show biz.  The reading has been lost through the ages and I have tried to find the original text and the closest is a poem by Jim Swettenham penned in January 9, 2014.  I know it is not the original but it is close enough.  Someday I am going to get enough courage to present it in church.  For now here is the poem that I found:

Stop, look and listen
Hear the steam a hissin’
The whistle it does blow
Sounding mournful and low
People in a big corral
Pushed toward train bound for hell
Some getting trampled underneath
Such wailing and gnashing of teeth
Not a pleasant sight or sound
Crammed in train that is hell-bound
Weighed by anchor and by chain
Afraid of the long black train

But look at the neighboring track
People slap each others’ back
Anxious to climb on board
The train driven by the Lord
Listen to the bell a ringin’
Hear the passengers a singin’
But why do passengers seem so few
Come aboard there is room for you
Climb aboard the ride is free
Jesus paid the ticket for you and me
Leave behind worry and pain
Take your ride on the Glory Land Train.

Thank you Knobby, you are remembered and in Heaven because of the right track.

Not to long ago I spent 7 hours cleaning the my storage shed.  You see I don’t have a garage any more because I converted into a combination study, theater, laundry, and sauna .

Every box, hammer, nail, screw, piece of camping gear, and piece of wood was moved at least three times.  It seems to me the longer you live the more possessions one accumulates.  As I lugged box after box to a new place in the garage I realized some of this stuff I have not used or even looked at for over a year.  Why do we keep so many things?

But then again as each box was moved I took the opportunity to see what treasures I was so adamant in keeping.  Found some pictures thought lost, books read but worth a second chance, wall hangings speaking from former homes; all more than their worth at a yard sale but less than a treasure.

But I will move them again and again and again.  Not because of the worth defined by the rest of the world but what each mean to me.