"Hand in Hand": A Childhood Memory Tracked Down

Talking with my wife about church buildings and sanctuaries and the lost appreciation for sacred places, I mentioned to her a childhood memory I have of a film I saw on the old "CBS Children's Film Festival" probably around 1967 or so. It was the story about the relationship between a Roman Catholic boy and a Jewish girl about 8 or 9 years old. They go on an make-believe safari ride on a little rubber raft in a river when their adventure turns to disaster.

The film opens with the boy rushing to the church to tell his priest that he has killed his friend Rachel. The story is told as a flashback beginning with how he met her and the struggle they had understanding each other's faith.

The film was 1960's "Hand in Hand" and as an adult I realize it's a story of religious tolerance that was very much ahead of its time.

As a child, I was mesmerized by its simple story of innocence and coming of age. But what has stayed with me all these 40 or so years is that image in mind of the Catholic church and the priest, of a place to run to, somewhere to go to be consoled, to be comforted, to be forgiven.

I remember a time when I was in college, struggling with some now forgotten trauma, and walking at nighttime in the sleepy little town where I went to school. I remember wishing I were Catholic, wondering where the nearest cathedral might be and settling for the dark steps of a Methodist church to sit and pray and be.

Today with our contemporary worship services and emphasis on multimedia entertainment and coffee-bar social setting, I worry that we've forgotten the need for sacred spaces. If someone searching for that sense of sacredness doesn't find it at the church, where will they go?

A week ago I was at a point where I simply had to get away from it all, away from work, away from the phone, away from emails, demands, complaints, desires, away from family even, away from people needing something from me, taking from me, wanting more, never feeling that what I was giving was good enough or was enough. So I left. Told my assistant I needed to run an errand and left. Drove to Shelby Farms, the largest urban park in the country, perhaps the world. And just walked. In the cold. In the wind. In the middle of the day.

It wasn't exactly a sacred space, but it came close. I was alone, except for the occasional runner or bicyclist passing. I was surrounded by God's handiwork --- birds, squirrels and a hawk or two. And I felt God's presence. The wind, the air, the rustling of the leaves. It was my adventure. And God and I were walking hand in hand.

Where Did All the Money Go?

I just received the October statement for our investment, brokerage and retirement accounts, and for the second consecutive month it's taken a serious nose dive. Not the direction I like to see my savings go. We live well within our means, contribute the maximum allowable amount to our SEP plans (the self-employed equivalent of a 401k), and make monthly automatic payments to my investment savings. And in the days since the current financial meltdown began, I've lost a LOT of money.

I don't like to talk about my finances. It's something I keep pretty personal. So I won't get too specific. But let's just say, it will take me three to four years of working and contributing to my investments as I have in the past to make up for the losses I have experienced in the last two months. And that's only if the market recovers from its tailspin very soon.

So, like many in America, I've been asking, "Where did all the money go?" If my money was there in August, who has it now?

Then I read this article titled "Where did all the money go?" and I finally grasped a very important lesson in finances. In fact, you could call it a rude awakening.

In the article, Robert Shiller, an economist at Yale explains that the price of a stock has never been the same thing as money -- it's simply the "best guess" of what the stock is worth.

"It's in people's minds," Shiller says. "We're just recording a measure of what people think the stock market is worth. What the people who are willing to trade today -- who are very, very few people -- are actually trading at. So we're just extrapolating that and thinking, well, maybe that's what everyone thinks it's worth."

In other words, I took my money -- real, hard, hard-earned money -- and bought something that I (and many others) thought was worth something, at the price we/they believed that something was worth at the time. Only now, that something I bought isn't worth what I paid for it.

It's as if I bought a high-priced house in a neighborhood that then went bad and the value of that house declined. I can wait it out and see if the neighborhood improves, something that may or may not happen in my lifetime. Or I can cut my losses and get out now -- before the neighborhood gets any worse and the value of my house plummets even further.

But the lesson I've learned, the rude awakening I've experienced, is more than a lesson in economics.

I'm learning that nothing really has changed. Just my value on paper. Just the vision I had of retiring three or four years earlier than I likely will. Just the false feeling of security I got with each monthly statement.

But nothing else has changed really. Not who I am. Not how people see me. Not who my friends are or the way my family feels toward me.

So what will I do differently? I won't stop saving or investing -- just maybe invest in safer, less risky options. And I may invest less and live more. Instead of investing in the future -- my future -- perhaps I will invest more in the present -- and in others.

Reminder to self:

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." -- Matthew 6:18-21

One of These Things is Not Like the Others

It was different this time, wasn't it? The day after the election, the day after the U.S. elected our first African-American President. That day was different than any other day after the election had ever been. Did you notice? Did you look at black people differently that day? Did they seem different to you?

I didn't vote for Obama, so I can't take credit for this historic event. I voted for McCain, for experience, for certainty, for a party whose promise of limited government involvement, trickle-down economics and pro-life leanings appeal to me. But imagine if McCain had won.

That day after the election would have felt no different than the day before. Little would have changed. And my vote would have been a vote for the status quo -- for better or worse.

And it wouldn't have been any different.

But it is different now. A pivotal moment in the trajectory of this country has occurred. A man of color has been elected to the highest office in the greatest nation on Earth.

I admit to being a cynic, to not believing his message of hope. Now that Obama is President, I will pray for him, for his guidance, for his wisdom, for his protection. I will pray that his promises were not empty, that he will be able to bring about the positive change he pledged. I pray that he will prove me wrong. And that our nation will be different -- and better.

Words: A Rather Random Brain Dump

As far back as he could remember, all he had ever wanted was to be normal. He wasn't even really sure what normal was exactly, but it was always held in high regard by his mother. The life lessons she taught were subtle, but lasting in their impact: You don't want to be poor. But being too wealthy is something to disdain. Vanity is, well, vain. But stand up straight, point your toes in when you walk, and for heaven's sake, don't pick your nose in public. Don't stand out. But don't be common. Excel. But don't be haughty. God's grace has washed you of your sins, but don't get too comfortable.

Today I awoke from a coma. Not a real coma, but a fog that has lasted some 30 years or more.

"Live your life for something bigger than yourself."

What have I been living for? Normalcy? Some elusive status quo?

"In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God."

Words are powerful. Words have the power to heal, the power to inspire, the power to hurt, the power to destroy.

We're constantly sowing words like seeds. Some will fall on fertile soil, some on rocky soil. Some will be choked out by thorns and weeds. Some will be eaten by birds. Some will take root and grow.

Funny how I can remember some words that were spoken to me long, long ago. "Sometimes you have to act your way into a better way of thinking," a wise woman told me at a pivotal point in my life. "Don't stand like that, you look like a queer," an older neighborhood boy told me. (Ironically, his father would later leave his mother for a man.) "My dad says your mother looks like a sack of potatoes," said a kid who looked like he should have worn that sack over his head.

What words am I sowing? I need to think before I speak.

The B-52s Live at the Garden

15 seconds of "Love Shack". Sorry about the poor quality cell phone image. Must. Have. An. iPhone.

Crosby, Stills & Nash Concert

Incredible un-Memphis-like weather and a major flashback from the 70s! All in all, a wonderful evening.

Stop, children, what's that sound? Everybody look what's going down!

My Job

This just reminded me so much of what my job can be like sometimes. Enjoy!

Earth, Wind & Fire Concert

Poor video shot with my cellphone, but a FANTASTIC concert. I couldn't believe how many of EWF's songs I remembered. This was part of the soundtrack of my high school days. Enjoy a few seconds of "Fantasy".

Family Vacation in D.C.

Check out pictures from our trip to the Capital.

What Gets Me Through the Day

What's it all for? This is what it's all for.

Always We Begin Again

That's the title of a great little book, a modern retelling of the Benedictine Code and a handy bedside table easy read you want to refer to over and over. Starting over. It's what we all need from time to time. And it's where I am today.

Spiritually: "Be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is — his good, pleasing and perfect will."

Professionally: "Be the brand they want to be."

Personally: "To have a friend, be a friend."

Walking and Falling

On a recent weekend retreat to a state park about an hour south of here, I rose early in the morning for a walk at dawn. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with my God.

Fog was thick across the lake. You could barely see the end of the dock. A footpath seemed to circle around lakeside, and I chose to follow it to the left.

A song came into my head and I found myself singing. Alone with my thoughts. Alone with my God.

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good ol' way
And who shall wear the robe & crown?
Good Lord show me the way

O brothers let's go down
Let's go down, come on down
Come on brothers, let's go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good ol' way
And who shall wear the starry crown?
Good Lord show me the way

Suddenly I fell. Hard. Flat on my butt. Walking down some wooden timber steps my feet simply flew out from under me, and I came down with an unholy thud.

I must have made a sound — a grunt? a curse? — because I could see the heads of two fishermen in a boat in the lake both look in my direction. Did they see me? Apparently not. They immediately went back to watching their lines.

I got up brushed myself off and walked on, gingerly, slowly making my way down the remaining timbers and along the leafy path.

O sinners, let's go down
Let's go down, come on down
O sinners, let's go down
Down in the river to pray

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good ol' way
And who shall wear the robe and crown?
Good Lord show me the way

Then I stepped on a boardwalk over a dry creek bed, and it happened again. This time my right foot slid away from me and off the edge of the treated lumber bridge. I came down on my left knee which slid across the slippery boardwalk and barely caught myself with the heel of my hands, preventing a face plant but sending my glasses flying off my face where they hung dangling between two boards.

Let's go down, come of down
O sinners, let's go down

Okay, Lord. You've got my attention.

Did you have to be so literal?

Okay. I guess you did.

Good Lord, show me the way.

A Permanent State

Coldplay singing from my iTunes, echoes my thoughts from long, long ago:

When I was a young boy I tried to listen
And I wanna feel like that,
Little white shadows blink and miss them
Part of a system, I am

If you ever feel like something's missing
Things you'll never understand,
Little white shadows sparkle and glisten,
Part of a system, a plan

All this noise I'm waking up
All this space I'm taking up
All this sound is breaking up

Maybe you'll get what you wanted
Maybe you'll stumble upon it
Everything you ever wanted
In a permanent state

Words I wrote perhaps 25 years ago:

To live on a mesa I really don't know.

Downhill so sudden
Verbatim vast
Crepuscular plummet
So hard to forecast

Not much has changed.

God, are you listening?

Are you there?

If you are, help me understand: Why do you not answer our prayers?