Turning Pages

It has been almost seventy years since I came kicking and screaming into this world. I was blessed with a loving family; a father and mother who both worked hard to provide for my needs. When I say that, I mean they provided for almost every need I ever had. I had plenty of shelter, food (very apparent by my husky photos). I hated that word. Every time mom and I went to Ivey's for school clothes, I was always directed to the "husky" section. You know the place or I am sure you have heard of it. It was the section you went to buy corderoy pants. Those are the ones that heated up when you walked caused by the friction of your legs rubbing together. They always whistled until the ridges were worn smooth. Then you just kind of glided along in stealth mode.

Well, they also provided for my emotional needs. I am sure you recall all the emotional baggage you assemble over the years during school as a kid growing up; my friends don't like me, I hate my teacher or love my teacher in the case of my typing teacher, Mrs. Osepchook. Man she was something special. I had plenty of spending money. We had a nice house which mom always kept clean. My clothes were never dirty unless I chose to make them so. You know what I mean; digging fox holes, climbing sappy pine trees, throwing rotten oranges at my best friends, not to mention the grass stains caused from wrestling in the yard. Oh, believe me, I could dirty something up in a heartbeat, but they never stayed dirty. Thanks mom!

And then there was my sibling; my only sibling. He is seven years older than me, but I wanted so much to hang with him and his possey. But, you know how that played out. I was more of a nuisance to him at the time. I could spend volumes writing about my youth. There was the incident with my bicycle. I just pulled it out of the trunk of the car, jumped on it, rode out into the street only to be hit by a car resulting in a broken femur. That was a long year of recovery. Then there was the time my brother fell at the bus stop resulting in a fractured skull. That was a long couple of months. Needless to say, I did not recieve any attention during that period. It was all about my BROTHER!

Then there was the golf ball through the Florida room window, the JART through the trunk of the Buick Electra, the broken finger my dad got when playing catch with my pals. Oh, the wayward bowling ball that knocked the sweeper off the tracks; thanks Bobby (my best friend). Of course, there were the firecrackers we put in all the windows of our neighbor. We planted them and then ran back to the house, watched t.v. with dad and heard the explosions only to have our neighbor come to the house accusing us of terrorism. My dad, being innocent of our mischief, defended us whole-heartedly claiming we were watching t.v. when it occured. Thanks dad!

As I write this post, the things I got into are flooding into my mind.

You might ask, "What is the point Steve?" Well, I am now approaching a time of life that is not necessarily wanted, but still appreciated. Seventy is not a bad number. In fact, it is just that, a number. I do not feel seventy most of the time. Oh sure, give me a good day of weedeating in the yard and I feel it. Give me a good long hike and I feel it. But my mind says, I am still that kid growing up who had and still has a loving family. Mom is gone now. She joined dad who died in '98. The years have crept along in many ways and now that I am older, they have grown wings. I take a regimen of vitamins every day. I am religious about it. I have a week long container I refill every, you guessed it, week. It seems I am always refilling the container. It is a simple guage, but, oh so effective in reminding me of the passing of time.

I am now a shuttle driver on the north rim of the Grand Canyon. Mally and I are seasonal help at a lodge at the north Grand Canyon. She works the reception desk and I drive the guests from the north rim to the south rim and back. It is a four hour ride each way. It is tiring, but I have listened to so many people talking about all kinds of things. This morning, I was taking some guests to the north rim to hike the trail in the canyon. Most of them were young and energetic; excited about the hike. However, one woman and her son were on a mission. She had intended to walk the trail with her husband two years ago, but unfortunately, he passed away. So, they were headed to the bottom of the canyon to spread his ashes. It will be a very specialtime for them.

Having dropped off the hikers, I was ready to get back to the house and go to bed. But as I returned, I came across a large herd of bison. They were blocking the road, so I sat and waited for them to pass. Some moved from fear of the van, some stood their ground daring me to come nearer. As I sat there staring at this one bison, I began thinking about life. To be more exact, about how our days, weeks, months, and years are in a way contained on pages; each page holding what has unfolded during the day. Each group of pages containing what happend during the year. Each collection of chapters holding the thoughts, dissapointments, fears, expectations, failures and successes, relationships, etc. You know what I am saying.

Examine your own life. As you sit quietly reflecting, your memories will come like a flood. The pages will begin to fill and the chapters begin to buldge with; well, with your life. I have not lost the point of this post, just the way in which to explain its purpose. I look at the young twenty and thirty year olds and want so badly to tell them how important it is to embrace the "now." Plan for the future, but do not let go of the now because before long, it will be the past and they too will be setting in a "bison jam" of their own reflecting on the pages of their lives.

The most important part of my loving family is how they gave me a chrisitian heritage. My family has a long, long history of chrisitian values. My dad, my mom, my brother, but also my family generations who have closed the pages of their lives. I am and will be forever greatful. Because of that, I have been blessed to have a relationship with Jesus Christ which I do not deserve, but humbly embrace with all that I am. My wife is a trememdous support in this area as she too, is a solid Christian.

This morning, pastor Alistair Begg said in his sermon from the book of Jude that the only way people really know you are a Christian is not because you go to church, but on how you let Christ work in your life moment, by moment. These are my words. He is much more eloquent. I have been fortunate. I have had and still do have a tremedous, loving, caring, giving, christian family, surpassed by none. Yes, that is a humble brag...! I was a son, (mom and dad are gone), now; a husband, father, grand-father and brother. In the past, I have been a student, painter, builder, fire-fighter, paramedic, registered nurse, pastor, beekeeper, and currently a full-time traveler who drives a shuttle from rim to rim of the Grand Canyon. My life has had many ups and downs. But, through it all, as I sat staring at that bison and thought about the pages of my life, I sit here now, quietly, reverently thankful for all God has blessed me with; most of all, the saving grace He bestowed on me with the death of Jesus on the cross for me; this poor ol', seventy year old man who hopefully still has a few more pages to fill.

Fill your pages!

Wear Jesus Well

Blessings,

Steve