Moving Yet Again...

 

Somebody out there is going to say:“I thought you were gong to write about moving and this may be the weirdest piece of your writing I have ever read. What’s all this talk about crabs?” “Well, bear with me and see how I hope this comes out.”

Crabs, Huh?

I have discovered that sand crabs move from shell to shell. But first they do what is called molting and then they grow a shell which acts as a protective cover. As the crab continues to grow the molting process begins again,  and slowly it will leave the old shell.This is a vulnerable time because w fish could attack and destroy a naked crab. Eventually the molting process begins again, and the crab forms a larger shell. Then when it is too large for the new shell, the process of shedding begins again and the crab finds a new home.

For us surrounded by boxes, trying to keep and give away, dealing with the lump in your throat, hoping you have made the right decision to move on knowing you have to stop and deal with your kids, saying goodbye to some of the closest friends . You put all your peculiar treasures in a moving van, look back at an empty, empty house—and the memories swirl. So many fine things happened in this house you are leaving.

And so you move to what will be a vulnerable time. Will your family say goodbye to the old and welcome the new? And what about you and your wife or husband or partner. Truth be told you have outgrown that house and that place. Like the crab you have moved beyond where you were. And it is time to leave.

Saying Goodbye

Saying goodbye is a hard thing, And there is a grief that we take with us to this new place that we cannot deny. Hopefully our molting will begin again and in time a larger shell or place or position. And home will take on a new look and a new growing. 

But it isn’t just putting your belongings on a van and moving to another place. It’s outgrowing where you are forced to deal with with life’s changes. 

Moving to a new place is only one of a myriad of changes that happen. You lose a loved one, you say goodbye to your child who leaves for college., you might lose a job and with it you lose status. Retirement is a dread for many. Watching slowly your body change or losing something vital. It could be the death of a friend. Or watching too much news and thinking My God, what is happening to this country? Why all this anger and rage? And violence?

It looks like our whole nation has lost something valuable. The old hardened  comfortable place is no more. You go back to where you started. The old house looks so small. Downright homely maybe. Or that huge brick building where you went to grade school is not as large as it used to be. And that school auditorium filled with kids, hundreds it seemed. Well, the place looks downright restrictive and maybe seats less than a hundred. You go to your 50th Reunion and look around and ask yourself, “Lord, what happened to them?” Maybe never asking ,”What happened to me?”

Hope

The danger is that you can get stuck in some old shell. It has long since quit making you stretch. It’s safe But you don’t move on. You stay close to the shore where you will never encounter the wonder of blue-green water or the waves and the swimming and fishing.  

But the moving van unloads all your stuff. The place is smaller. Strange. No neighbors yet. And you find you don’t need half the stuff you surrounded yourself with. This is the vulnerable time for you. Without the shell of yesterday it is scary. But you put your things in place and begin again. Different. But a good difference. One day you will grow another shell and it will be maybe the most comfortable place you have known. Isn’t that the hope we all have?  

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

What a night to get engaged!

(My granddaughter and her boyfriend have talked about marriage for quite some time but they had never firmed up their promise. So Devon decided to surprise her with an engagement ring while they were in Savannah on a weekend trip. Libby had no idea about the ring.   After Devon's surprise they traveled back to their hotel. Opening the door they found a room full of friends and relatives. Gayle and I could not go but Leslie, Libby's mother asked me if I would write a letter to be read that evening. Libby's sister, Natalie read my words that night.)

                                     *           *             *          *

 Dear Libby and Devon--Gayle and I are sorry we  couldn't be with you to share with joy on this special night. But  we are with you in spirit counting on all the days after day that holds so much promise. 

There is an old book called Crossing to Safety in which the author reminds us that there is no way that any of us can cross the choppy waters to safety alone. We have to have somebody with us. And this is really why you are here to remember how much we all need each other and how powerful for us to hold on to somebody else as they hold on to us too. 

And you all have been together long enough to know of all the people out there you two have decided this is the person that you want to help you get through all the choppy waters. And they will be there swirling a lot of times in your lives. 

Any relationship of two people is having a hard time today. But to one day you will stand there, holding hands and looking into each other’s eyes. And you will pledge and you will both promise. 

This will be a holy ground and there are days when your cups will be filled and running over. And there will be dark days when the waters will be so choppy that you will wonder if your little boat will make it through the stormy weather which comes when you least expect it. 

So your marriage will be like a trip and a journey. There will be ups and downs. There will be pot holes and sometimes you all might just run out of gas. But so many days you will look out and hear birds that sing, and so sky so beautiful you can’t say anything. And you will move along. Why? Because of hope. That this partner that holds your hand will help you both through whatever comes.

I saw a cartoon one time in which this old couple sit at their kitchen table and look at each other. And she says: “Do you know what 30 years of marriage adds up to? 22,000 scrambled eggs, 4,680 loads of laundry, 10,950 beds made, 30,000 cups of coffee, 60 trips to the dentist…”

Yep—she is right but also those years hold so, so much more. For love is really is a many splendored thing that  keeps us going. And that means there is so much more to this “I do” that any of us realize.

One of my favorite love stories goes like this:

“It is something…it can be everything—too have found a fellow bird with whom you can sit among the rafters while the drinking and the boasting and reciting and fighting go on below; a fellow bird whom you can look after and find bugs and seeds for; one who will patch your bruises and straighten your ruffled feathers and mourn over your hurts when you accidentally fly into something you can’t handle.”

My, my what a night of hopes and dreams galore!   —from Grandpa July 20, 2023

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

July Fourth 2023 is a Strange Anniversary

 

On this July 4th I look out my window where flags wave up and down the street. It’s quiet. But fireworks tonight will lighten the whole place. But outside our peaceful bubble chaos seems to reign. Whatever our persuasion most of us know the dreams of all those who fought, prayed, loved and worked through the years are not so clear this Anniversary day. 

You’ve probably heard this quote. When he emerged from Constitution Hall, Benjamin Franklin was recognized by a woman who asked of him “What kind of government are you giving us?” “A republic, Madam, if you can keep it.” And it looks right now that many of us are worried about keeping this wonderful land and all its promise. 

What are we going to do? Just watch the terrible news that will not stop. Or just be depressed. Tune out and just think of personal stuff or anything, anything like videos, sports, reading and shopping. Anything to escape from all this chaos. Maybe we can just stay angry and be furious with all these on the other side of the divide.

I have been reading John Meacham’s wonderful book about Lincoln. And There Was Light. He tells the Lincoln story in a powerful way. How could a man called Abe with almost no resources became the marvelous leader of our country in the terrible days of the civii war. 

I think maybe Mr. Meacham was thinking about us and our time as well as Lincoln. The country was so divided. The issue was slavery and the lines were so drawn. And war they lived through reminds me of where we are. I know people are talking about shredding the Constitution, longing for someone that can fix all of this.

As Lincoln began to talk about the wrongness of slavery he had an uphill struggle to get to the Presidency. And there were assassination whisperings everywhere. And there was a large group that decided even though Mr. Lincoln was elected, many would make sure the Electoral College went their way. They put every roadblock in his path that even though he was chosen by the people—this group was determined that Lincoln would never serve a day as President. And even when he did the hatred he endured would finally take his life.

Sound familiar? We have been here before. Again and again. And these folk that want to hide behind that silly word, woke would erase our history and ignore our dark side.  But this is where we are with our fears and rage and hope and dreams.

I have a lot of dark days as I think of this July 4th. But Meacham’s book reminds me we have been here many times. Terrible things did happen. But somehow we endured. Not pollyanna style but with the stubborn hope that that light that goes all the way back to 1776 would not be extinguished.

So here all are. In the same boat. Like it or not. And I do believe like the blacks and immigrants and so many others we might just overcome again some day.

Dear God, help us to keep our Republic.

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

On Father's Day this I Remember

On this Father’s Day I remember my Father, John Lovett. He was born in 1898. He grew up in a hard a poor farm. When he was a little boy his ears ruptured and his family lived way out in the country and had no way to get to a Doctor. So their home remedies did not work.  So my Daddy grew up with probably 90% hearing loss. I can only imagine how difficult were not only his growing up years but his whole life. Cut off. Not understanding those around him. He kept to himself most days because he could not hear. There were few if any hearing aids back then and when finally ordered hearing aids they hardly worked. They whistled all the time. 

So he had a hard time communicating not only with his family but just about everybody. One heartbreaking scene I will never forget. The local Assembly of God Church (always suspect by us Baptists) advertised that a healing evangelist was coming to that church. So the night of the meeting my father told us about the service and that he hoped he would be healed that night. So he dressed in his suit and my brother, Mother and me went with him to the service. I don’t recall much of that evening but there came a time when people who needed healing would form a line some with crutches, some in wheelchairs, mothers with babies. They waited until their time came to meet the Evangelist. They came to be touched by the Evangelist. He would ask them their problem. And then he would touch their forehead and yell: “Be healed!” And almost every person in the line just collapsed as if in a trance. Ushers came forward to help those supposedly “slain in the spirit.” 

When his time came he told the Evangelist he couldn’t hear and wanted to be healed. And the Evangelist touched his ears and screamed: ”Be healed." As he touched my Father’s forehead my Daddy collapsed and we were scared. This is all I remember about that service except that long winding line of sufferers wanting desperately to be healed.

After the service we asked Daddy if he could hear. “Yes,”I can hear.” Tears rolled down his cheeks. But the next day he said he could not hear quite as well and the next day he was back where he had always been. I don’t remember what happened after that. I have wondered how he felt when his hopes were dashed and his dream was shattered. 

There is a religion that promises false hopes. That proclaims that God heals everybody if you stand in the line, trust the great Healer and repeat the right slogans. One of the worst things about holding out false hopes is what it does to the person who believes all things are possible. The false prophets have not gone way.

And so on this Father’s Day that sad night comes rushing back. Remarkably my Father went on. He was still Daddy. After a long hard week in the mill he would take me and my brother up the street to where the houses ended. We would walk through the woods next to the river. He would point out wild flowers and birds and wild animals and scary snakes. We didn’t say much but I didn’t think much about that dark night until years later. But here was a Father, despite whatever disappointments he may have had, he took his two boys and together they walked though the woods. Isn’t it strange the things you remember?

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

On Memorial Day we stop and remember. At least most of us.

Everywhere I go I bump into them. 

They almost all look alike.

Members of the same club.

Old. 

Faces weatherbeaten lined. 

Tired. 

In the grocery store pushing a cart.  

Sitting on a bench smoking a cigarette.  

Here and there at a ball game. 

Shuffling in to see some doctor. 

They’ve lost a lot. 

They don’t say much. 

Usually they ignore the questions we ask about the war. 

Yes, they’ve lost a lot. 

Buddies over there. 

Limbs and sometimes minds. 

Health. 

All the years that could have been.

Sometimes wives and children. 

Not like it used to be. 

They ache. 

They don’t cry much. 

But they feel—oh, how they feel. 

So now let us raise a salute.

Let us praise all the unknown guys 

with the crumpled hats. 

That say veteran.

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

 

Let's Talk About Trans

 

I aways liked the slogan: “It’s a great day in South Carolina.” But I am beginning to have second thoughts.  Not all people in our state can say: “It’s a great day in South Carolina.  Why? So many people seem to be left out. Dreamers, poor folk, gays, blacks, immigrants or just non-whites. 

Yet a last week a headline on Transgender folk in the local newspaper has given me pause. The State Legislators are trying to pass bills that would deny Trans people full rights and privileges in SC. The headline read: “Upstate Families Face Anxiety, Exit Plans.” This fear seems to be spreading to almost every state. 

Transgender means “a person whose gender identity does not correspond with the sex registered at birth.”  Which means that people are confused about their sexual identity. Some males feel more like female than male. The same can be said of females. All over the country young people and their families are struggling with this term transgender. 

Couples have told me very early on they knew sons or daughters were different. Their child’s sexual identity gravitated to the opposite sex. They see themselves as not the male or female they find on their birth certificate. Many are involved in transition, meaning they are receiving treatments to change their sex. 

Like so many others I do not understand this problem. Yet over 1.6 million identify themselves as transgender. This is a threat to legislators and ordinary citizens. 14 states prohibit transgender people from employment. 13 states protest the protection of transgenders and refuse them housing. 

There are 3,500 transgender youths (13-17) in our state. 18 bills in SC have been introduced attacking  transgenders. Their stated purpose is to stamp out health care for those in transition, changes in birth certification, adoption rights, use of bathrooms and sports teams. 

These bills would ban any instruction of expressions of gender diversity in the classroom. This is followed with the banning of books that even mention the term, trans. One Florida provision allows Social Services to scoop children from their homes if their parents give their under-age children access to gender-affirming care. Some parents are seriously considering moving out of the state to protect their children from hatred and harsh and unfair treatment. Others not understanding weep for their children.

The American Academy of Pediatrics revealed alarming rates of attempted suicide among transgender youth. 1.8 million L GBTQ youths (13-24) consider suicide every year.

The climate the parents and their trans children encounter enormous resistance. Just think your child comes home and tells you they are not the sex you thought they were. Imagine the struggle these parents feel in unlearning values they have always held. Shifting these gears is far from easy. And then there is the difficulty in dealing with their relatives and friends. 

Many people charge these parents with indoctrinating their children to transgender. Teachers are warned to not mention this subject. Many churches teach these children are an abomination and live in sin. They say that God’s laws have been broken.

What we need:

1) Bills to protect all our children. Every child needs a safe place. 

2) Parents need encouragement and support as they struggle with all their issues.

 3) We need Legislators that are willing to sit down and listen to parents and their

 children as they tell their stories.

4) Every person and family dealing with these issues should seek counseling in this serious matter.
 

5) Churches and other faith groups should welcome all people. No Qualification. 

There are a multitude of references in the New Testament on the defense of children. “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes “ me. If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, if would be better for you if a great millstone were fastened around your neck, and you were drowned in  the depths of the sea.” (Matthew 18. 6.)

6) We also need to ponder the words of the 14th Amendment in our Constitution: “All persons or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens  of the United States  and the State wherein they reside. No State shall make or enforce any law which abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall the State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.”

I close these remarks with the eloquent words of Wendell Berry:

“Though you have done nothing shameful,

they will want you to be ashamed.

They will want you to kneel and weep

and say you should have been like them.

And once you say you are ashamed,

reading the page they hold out to you,

then such light as you have made

in your history will leave you.”

--Roger Lovette / rogerlovette.blogspot.com

Pentecost--Then and Now

When I read Pentecost story of the birth of the church there were no stained glass disciples. There were no great throngs singing something like the Hallelujah Chorus. No. Maybe that Pentecost birth was much like ours. Like mine maybe. Coming into the world in a four-room house to parents who barely finished the eighth grade and lived from small paycheck to paycheck.  Folks like us—weak-kneed disciples who on and off again tended that little fire that began that first day with the rushing wind.

Nobody knew where it would go or what would mean. And nobody would know back then that even though there would be whoredoms and Laodiceas and sermons and terrible actions that would smudge his name. Through the years pilgrims of all ages keep shuffling in to confess and cry and have lumps in their throats and whisper: "Help me! Help me!" They and we leave over and over with a hope strong and sometimes weak—but still hanging on that kindly light despite the ever flickering gloom. Nothing that the world could throw at them or us would stick.

And from that day only God knew that stubborn spirit would endure and sometimes be as wonderful as that fiery day when it all began. Crosses everywhere. Prayers even in funerals and weddings and dull-grey days. And rosaries and  shame and fury. And it came to all. All flesh the book called it. And languages from all over the world. And the wind would blow and still blows and nothing could stop it' power.

Looking back we marvel at the courage and love and commitment that kept them going. So in these strange days Pentecost is still celebrated. Because even with all the unfairness and the hatred  and injustice that Promised Spirit still comes. And it isn’t because of anything we do—but like rain on a parched-dry field it comes and all is touched. No wonder Jesus said: “I will not be here but I will send my Spirit." And we look back on that first day and look now on our difficult days and we will be glad because it is far from over. For that Spirit is hard to understand but it still comes. Even here…especially here.

Lift up your hearts

We lift them up to the Lord.

--Roger Lovette/ rogerlovette.blogspot.com