Marriage

Marriage is a wonderful institution! But it is also probably the hardest thing that any two people are ever asked to do. Marriage can fulfill you and challenge you. It can cause you to laugh and turn you into tears in a second. It can provoke you to change and it can cause you to re-evaluate your path in life. Marriage is both a blessing and a curse.

A friend of mine, who was not a relative and was too soon taken from us because of a brain tumor, The Rev. O. Dean Martin, wrote a book many, many years ago entitled, “Good Marriages Don’t Just Happen.” It was so insightful that the University of Florida actually asked him to teach a course based on his understanding of the relationship that a husband and wife had with each other within the demands of marriage.

One of the things that I remember from the book and corresponding video series made using Dean as the teacher, was the line considering Dean’s marriage to Sandra. “We’ve been married 25 years its been the best 22 years of my life! Now if you ask Sandra she probably will say that it was the best 19 years of her life.” And, that spoke to the reality of any relationship because there is a day here and a day there, a week here and a week there, and, sometimes, a month here and a month there that, according to Dean, “You simply want to take your partner to the highest mountain, push them off and tell God that they slipped.”

Nobody can live with another human being and be “happy” all of the time … that simply isn’t possible. Oh, I’ve attended my fair share of 50th Wedding Anniversary parties and have heard the couple talk about their bliss filled 50 years together. I’ve heard it said, at these celebrations, that “we’ve been married 50 years and never had a cross word to say to each other.” Now, my friends, either they are not telling the truth or somebody sure bites their tongue a lot.

One older gentleman shared, at his wedding celebration, that he was determined that he would never say anything in anger to his wife. He decided that he would take a long walk every time they got into a disagreement in order to allow the situation to cool down. “I must be approaching 10,000 miles by now,” he said. That is the reality of being married.

Another way to look at this special relationship is what I call the “Half-glass syndrome.” I can either consider the glass half-full or half-empty … which translates into marriage in that I can either look at our relationship and consider the good things about our relationship (the half-full concept) or I can concentrate on what is wrong with the relationship (the half-empty concept). One will bring happiness and fulfillment, the other will bring criticism and fault find … and nothing but heartache. It is our choice.

I also believe in the Providence of God. In connection to marriage it means that God brought the two people together for marriage. God knew that this particular individual would complete you and cause you to become all that He had created you to be. Sometimes growth is difficult and sometimes it can test your resolve to stay together, but if you determine that love is the answer then you will always see the glass as half-full.

I write this as Margaret and I celebrate our 45th Wedding Anniversary today … it was 45 years ago, at 8 PM that Margaret Marie Sever and James Wesley Martin stood before The Rev. Charlie Thompson at Allapattah Methodist Church in Miami, Florida and made a commitment to be husband and wife … for better or for worse. We are celebrating the “for better” part!

Quote for today: "To keep your marriage brimming / With love in the loving cup / Whenever you're wrong, admit it / Whenever you're right, shut up!" Ogden Nash

On being a parent

In Vanishing Acts by Jodi Picoult, the author wrote: “What is a parent, really, but somebody who picks up the things a child leaves behind – a trail made of stripped-off clothing, orphaned shoes, tinny bright plastic game pieces, and nostalgia – and who hands back each of these when it’s needed? What is a parent but someone you trust to keep you safe, and to tell you the truth” (page 145).

Being a parent isn’t easy. Though there are numerous “instruction” manuals, so to speak, in the bookstores, you have to buy them, read them, understand what you have read, believe in what you read and then follow what you have read. Who really is going to do that? Becoming a parent is a lot easier than being a parent.

Overheard recently about being a parent, “If I had known it was this hard I would have prepared better!” But, how does anyone really prepare to be a parent? You can read all those books, talk with other parents, remember how you were raised … and then go forth and simply do the best job possible based on what you know or think you know. And isn’t that at the root of the reality – as parents we simply try to do the best job possible based on what we know or think we know. We do a pretty good job given the circumstances and the information available at the time.

Insights come along with the journey. As I listened to a call in talk show some time ago I was struck by the advice offered to a caller who was wondering what to do with her child who was entering the “Terrible Twos” stage of life. The radio host advice was solid … just work on the relationship do not try to change the behavior, unless it is life threatening or mean spirited, because before you know it the child will have moved on to some other “horrible” behavior pattern and hopefully, he/she will have a good solid relationship with you as their parent to take with them. When I got home I shared this over dinner with my two daughters, who were teenagers at the time. One of them said, “Man, I wish you had discovered this little insight much earlier!” And, so did I.

Parenting is all about the relationship … not control or authority or power … just a relationship, but not as a buddy-to-buddy rather as parent-to-child. Our offspring will always need a parent that they can turn to for advice and guidance – the wise one in the midst of the storms of life. Without a relationship the child will not necessarily be able to trust the source of the wisdom.

Do parents make mistakes? Yes! Are those devastating and long lasting? Sometimes. Can they be undone? Maybe … depends on how much work the parent wants to do and how much the child now a teenager or an adult is willing to open up. Does any parent wish they could go back and do it again? By all means! Who was it that said that we, as parents, should bring one child into this life raise it to full adulthood then through it away and start all over with another child – much wiser and better suited to being a parent?

I will admit that it is much easier being a grandparent … and much more fun! You cannot make any mistakes and if you do, it is the child’s parents who are responsible to correct the mistakes made. That sure let’s the grandparent off the hook … but should it? I’m feeling a little guilty, as I have just written those words. Grandparenting is as important to the emotional and mental well being of the child as his or her relationship with his or her parents. Like it or not we are a part of the village that is raising the child.

And so, the three most important ideas in raising a child by the parents or grandparents are: relationship, relationship, relationship.

Go forth and multiple … enjoy the journey and stop worrying about making mistakes … when the “burden” of parenting gets to be overwhelming just sit down with your child, bring out the Oreos and have an icing licking contest … and enjoy the laughter … it will be memory that both of you will enjoy later in life!

And if you are not a parent then go forth and adopt someone else’s child for the day or for the weekend – both the parents and the child will appreciate the relief you bring into their life!

Quote for today: I have found the best way to give advice to your children is to find out what they want and then advise them to do it. Harry S. Truman

A story: On Military Honor Guard Duty

Without any commentary I offer this story. May it touch your spirit.

I just wanted to get the day over with and go down to Smokey's. Sneaking a look at my watch, I saw the time, 1655. Five minutes to go before the cemetery gates are closed for the day. Full dress was hot in the August sun. Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever--the heat and humidity at the same level--both too high.

I saw the car pull into the drive, '69 or '70 model Cadillac Deville, looked factory-new. It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace. An old woman got out so slow I thought she was paralyzed; she had a cane and a sheaf of flowers--about four or five bunches as best I could tell.

I couldn't help myself. The thought came unwanted, and left a slightly bitter taste: 'She's going to spend an hour, and for this old soldier, my hip hurts like hell and I'm ready to get out of here right now!' But for this day, my duty was to assist anyone coming in.

Kevin would lock the 'In' gate and if I could hurry the old biddy along, we might make it to Smokey's in time.

I broke post attention. My hip made gritty noises when I took the first step and the pain went up a notch. I must have made a real military sight: middle-aged man with a small pot gut and half a limp, in marine full-dress uniform, which had lost its razor crease about thirty minutes after I began the watch at the cemetery.

I stopped in front of her, halfway up the walk. She looked up at me with an old woman's squint.

'Ma'am, may I assist you in any way?'

She took long enough to answer.

'Yes, son. Can you carry these flowers? I seem to be moving a tad slow these days.'

'My pleasure, ma'am.' Well, it wasn't too much of a lie.

She looked again. 'Marine, where were you stationed?'

' Vietnam, ma'am. Ground-pounder. '69 to '71.'

She looked at me closer. 'Wounded in action, I see. Well done, Marine. I'll be as quick as I can.'

I lied a little bigger: 'No hurry, ma'am.'

She smiled and winked at me. 'Son, I'm 85-years-old and I can tell a lie from a long way off. Let's get this done. Might be the last time I can do this. My name's Joanne Wieserman, and I've a few Marines I'd like to see one more time.'

'Yes, ma 'am. At your service.'

She headed for the World War I section, stopping at a stone. She picked one of the flowers out of my arm and laid it on top of the stone. She murmured something I couldn't quite make out. The name on the marble was Donald S. Davidson, USMC: France 1918.

She turned away and made a straight line for the World War II section, stopping at one stone. I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek. She put a bunch on a stone; the name was Stephen X. Davidson, USMC, 1943.

She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone, Stanley J. Wieserman, USMC, 1944.

She paused for a second. 'Two more, son, and we'll be done'

I almost didn't say anything, but, 'Yes, ma'am. Take your time.'

She looked confused. 'Where's the Vietnam section, son? I seem to have lost my way.'

I pointed with my chin. 'That way, ma'am.'

'Oh!' she chuckled quietly. 'Son, me and old age ain't too friendly.'

She headed down the walk I'd pointed at. She stopped at a couple of stones before she found the ones she wanted. She placed a bunch on Larry Wieserman, USMC, 1968, and the last on Darrel Wieserman, USMC, 1970. She stood there and murmured a few words I still couldn't make out.

'OK, son, I'm finished. Get me back to my car and you can go home.'

Yes, ma'am. If I may ask, were those your kinfolk?'

She paused. 'Yes, Donald Davidson was my father, Stephen was my uncle, Stanley was my husband, Larry and Darrel were our sons. All killed in action, all marines.'

She stopped. Whether she had finished, or couldn't finish, I don't know. She made her way to her car, slowly and painfully. I waited for a polite distance to come between us and then double-timed it over to Kevin, waiting by the car. 'Get to the 'Out' gate quick. I have something I've got to do.'

Kevin started to say something, but saw the look I gave him. He broke the rules to get us there down the service road. We beat her. She hadn't made it around the rotunda yet.

'Kevin, stand at attention next to the gatepost. Follow my lead.' I humped it across the drive to the other post. When the Cadillac came puttering around from the hedges and began the short straight traverse to the gate, I called in my best gunny's voice: 'TehenHut! Present Haaaarms!'

I have to hand it to Kevin; he never blinked an eye--full dress attention and a salute that would make his DI proud. She drove through that gate with two old worn-out soldiers giving her a send-off she deserved, for service rendered to her country, and for knowing duty, honor and sacrifice.

I am not sure, but I think I saw a salute returned from that Cadillac.

Instead of 'The End,' just think of ' Taps.'

As a final thought on my part, let me share a favorite prayer: 'Lord, keep our servicemen and women safe, whether they serve at home or overseas. Hold them in your loving hands and protect them as they protect us.' Let's all keep those currently serving and those who have gone before in our thoughts. They are the reason for the many freedoms we enjoy.

Quote for today: No man in this world attains to freedom from any slavery except by entrance into some higher servitude. There is no such thing as an entirely free man conceivable. Phillips Brooks

Going back to school

Watching the students go back to school causes me to remember those days in my own life. Some of the memories are good and … some are not so good. The beginning of the school year, be it elementary, Junior or Senior High school or college, was always filled with excitement, anticipation, great goals, tremendous desires and always a resolve that this year was going to be different. But, then the classes began, the teacher’s expectations where laid upon us, the assignments were passed out, the social interactions within the classroom became complicated, and the year simply moved into the “same-old-same-old” stuff.

There are a few outstanding memories. The best year ever was the sixth grade. Dr. Malanggo was the teacher (I’m sure that I am not spelling his name correctly – after all that was over 56 years ago). He motivated us like no other teacher that I had ever had before. Come Christmas break we had completed all of the necessary work for sixth grade, if you can believe it. Thinking back I’m not really sure how we did it and I’m sure that he ever informed us of his goal, but the rest of the year was fantastic because we, the students, determined what we were going to discover during the remaining months of the school year. It was marvelous and what sheer joy of experiences and discovery.

Another memory includes my homeroom teacher in Senior High School, Uncle Jimmy Hudson. Once you met this unusual, loving, caring gentleman your life was going to change … guaranteed. If anyone ever was meant to be a teacher and to be involved in helping to shape the minds, spirit and future of young people it was Uncle Jimmy. I never had him for any classes, but homeroom was a class in itself. He took the time to teach us about life and how to live it through the stories he would tell, jokes shared, and quotes for the day upon the board. It was just 15 minutes at the beginning of each day, but had a profound impact upon us all.

Then there was the American History professor in the second year of college. He taught American History II from two perspectives – from the textbook (required reading) and journals that he and his father, grandfather and great grandfather kept while they were in service to the president and other members of congress. He would be lecturing away and then stop, pause and state, “Well, that is what the history books tell us, but here is what was written in the journals.” It was a personal and often conflicting interpretation of American History … rich in texture and insightful in observations … hard to forget those kinds of experiences.

The rest of my college learning experience is kind of jammed together because shortly after my second year of college Margaret and I were married … and then Tim came … and then Tracy … and trying to adjust to married life with a family while “trying” my hand at serving a church 50 miles due west of Atlanta was a juggling act at best. There was times that I felt like the circus guy who tries to keep all the plates spinning on those little thin sticks … mine just kept falling off and breaking. It was the best of times … it was the worst of times … hard to concentrate with so much demanding for your attention.

I do remember on seminary professor, Dr. Ted Runyon. It was during one of his oral final exams – he would sit at his desk and simply enter into a dialogue with you about the course subject and what you learned. He had his set questions, but they kind of found their way into the conversation. At some point I remember him shutting his book, leaning across the desk, looking me directly in the eyes and state, “You know, Martin, if you ever got serious about your education you would be dangerous!”

Looking back it wasn’t really that hard. God never gives you more than you can handle. Oh, it might stretch you. It might seem rather demanding. It might require more from you than you think that you can give. And, yet, we all survive, making the necessary adjustments and come out the other end the victor.

And so, as the students and teachers go back to the classroom, they go with my prayers and good wishes for rich memories of not necessarily what they are going to learn from the textbook, but what they are going to experience from each other. Because when all is said and done, it will be those interpersonal relationships between teacher and student, and between student and student that will remain with them for the rest of their days.

Here is to good memories. I have some and I hope that you do too!

Quote for today: Smartness runs in my family. When I went to school I was so smart my teacher was in my class for five years. Gracie Allen

Mother Teresa, one of my sheros

One of my “sheroes” of life and faith would have turned 100 years old last week (August 26) … Mother Teresa. I admired her for a long time, but when I received a Christmas gift one year of excerpts from her spiritual journal she was moved into the sheroe category ... at least in my mind.

The stories that surrounded her caring ministry to the “least of these” are moving in their own right. The one that still lingers in my soul is the story of a visiting American journalist who was granted permission to “shadow” Mother Teresa one day as she worked in the leprosy ward at one of the charity hospitals in Calcutta. He writes about the ward being filled with hundreds of beds of people in various stages of this horrible disease. The stench of decaying flesh and bodily fluids was over powering. It was all he could do to keep his food down, but Mother Teresa moved from bed to bed, bathing the soars, changing bandages, changing the sheets, mopping up the mess from around the beds and then moving on to the next patient. When she got to the end of the ward she would then go back to the first patient and start all over again. Finally, the journalist said, “I couldn’t do what you are doing.” To which she replied, “Neither could I, but the Jesus in me can.”

Her faithful witness and sacrificial love expressed to the sick and dying is but one example of her spirit, but the real sheroe status came from reading her journal entries. Entry after entry spoke about her struggle with her faith … her doubts … the deafening silence from God to her prayers … her frustrations concerning a lack of biblical understanding … her anxiety concerning her effectiveness. In reading one entry after entry the struggling spirit of this saintly woman began to emerge. Here was someone that could understand my struggle!

Here I was thinking all the time that Mother Teresa had all the answers, had a special relationship with God, had her spiritual act together – so to speak - but what I found, in her journal, was an individual who, in spit of her doubts, questions and frustrations, was able to move forward on her spiritual journey and ministry. I found somebody that I could relate to in that she wasn’t afraid of admitting her human failings in that spiritual journey, but knew – and here is the hope for all of us in our quest – that answers would eventually come not because we stop and wait, but when we face our questions and doubts and continue to move forward anyway. Truly, she was one of my sheroes!

When I am faced with life’s little problems, when my spirit grows weary, when my mind cannot seem to wrap itself around the ever present questions, doubts and frustrations, when I come away from reading scripture with more questions than answers … I follow Mother Teresa’s example of admitting where I am spiritually, mentally and emotionally and move on. Some would choose to compromise their faith so that it can “fit” into their “reasonable” thinking and life’s experiences and by doing so, they could be missing out on some significant spiritual growth and insight. After all just look at Mother Teresa who never sought to bring scripture and faith down to her level, but always sought to elevate herself to the Almighty’s level.

Quote for today: God doesn't require us to succeed; he only requires that you try. Mother Teresa

Answered Prayer

A man, on bended knee, pleaded his desperate financial situation before God asking to win the lottery. His cries were deep, emotions ran wild and the tears were real, but come the next day nothing ... he did not win. So now more desperate, he went back to God asking to win the lottery. His financial angst this time was deeper and his plea was more emotional, but come the next day still nothing ... he did not win. And, so, the third time he took his horrible situation before God and in mid-prayer God spoke, “Son, work with me here, at least buy a ticket!”

And so it goes for most of us … through prayer and meditation we lay before the Almighty our life and its needs – emotional, mental and physical … and then sit back and wait for THE answer, only to be disappointed that no answer is forth coming. We fail to understand that after we pray we must get to work. At least 50%, if not 90%, of any solution to our emotional, mental and physical state is found in the sweat equity that comes from us.

We teach this to our children, don’t we? They come to us with their requests and in helping them we enlist them in finding the solution (or at least we should enlist them instead of doing it for them). Anything that requires something from us is more appreciated than something that is simply handed to us. If it comes too easily it can be discarded without much thought, but if we have to work at it, struggle for it, make plans to achieve it and wait for its coming then when it arrives we can celebrate and feel satisfied … a deep, long lasting satisfaction … it is the “at least buy a ticket” syndrome or as I wrote last Sunday about Miss Hattie getting to church through all kinds of weather, “Getting there is half the joy.”

If we expect God to do everything for us then we just might find ourselves still wandering in the desert years later without ever experiencing the joy of coming into the Promised Land.

Quote for today:
Unanswered yet? Nay, do not say ungranted;
Perhaps your part is not yet wholly done;
The work began when first your prayer was uttered,
And God will finish what He has begun.
Though years have passed since then, do not despair;
His glory you shall see, sometime, somewhere.
Ophelia Adams.

Getting lost on the way to our life

Have you ever gotten lost on the way to your life? We all have … some more so than others. I’m not really sure when it begins, but we get sidetracked from being our authentic self by getting buried by artificial identities. We just get lost. It is so easy. First comes the question, “Are you Ted’s sister or Mary’s brother?” which is followed rather quickly by, “Are you Lowell’s son or John’s daughter?” We start getting lost on our way to our life so much so that we get confused as to just who we are. Labels, if that is what they are called, come quickly and have a tendency to stick … if we like it or not.

We’ve seen this played out in the national media. Tiger Woods lost his moral bearings and his core structure by believing that he was indestructible. Lindsay Lohan gained her fame and fortune, but lost the authentic individual. Both got caught up into believing what others where saying about them. They lost sight of what was really important and on their way to their life got lost.

Some people never recover from this emotional and mental, as well as spiritual misstep. They simply keeping going through the same process, but expect different results. Examples can be found wherever you wish to look – multiple divorces followed by multiple re-marriages, constantly changing jobs or the more “normal” sign of “lostness” by stating what your job is before people ask or who your parents are or who your children are long before anybody really cares.

It is all so confusing because as these layers are placed upon us we not only get buried by them, but we get lost on our way to our life. Mary Frances Chappell comes to mind. She very gently and loving refused to be labeled as, “The preacher’s wife” as in, “I have a name!” Also, she won’t let your children be labeled as the “preacher’s kids” … they to had a name and an identity apart from who their daddy was and what he did.

The sad result in this loss is that we fail at the most fundamental requirement of life … learning to love ourselves. It is sad because if we do not love ourselves then it becomes impossible to love anyone else. Oh, we say we love them, but the testimony to the reality that we really don’t love them as their authentic selves is that we place certain spoken or unspoken requirements upon them … as in “you should do …” or “why did you do …” or “you must … you gotta’ … you ought … you have to … why haven’t you … etc.” Just one layer of expectations and demands after another – layer upon layer – until at some point they get lost on their way to their life.

Oh, we’ve learned these little personality tricks from experts … they are called our parents. And, in turn, we pass it down to our children … “visiting the iniquity unto the third and fourth generations” (to quote from the Ten Commandments). We use these parental tricks in order to “control” the lives of the little people who have been entrusted into our care. Our intentions are good, but the process is misplaced. It is actually a miracle that we grow-up as well as we do, but the sad reality is that we have missed out on the authentic life that God intended us to have … we simply get lost on the way to our life.

A child comes into this world trusting everyone in authority, but then through a little action here and a little “un-action” there the child soon, too soon, learns that it isn’t always good to trust … or to love … or to believe … or to hope … or to care … layer upon layer and the life is lost … but maybe not forever.

If we lose ourselves in love then possibly we make the discovery of the life that God has held out for us. From our experiences in life we become afraid to really love – it only leads to hurt or pain or heartache. If we do reach out in love it is normally to continue to feed our layered life and not to free us so we can embrace the life that we have lost on our journey.

Look deep within yourself … discover the core of your being … embrace it … love it … learn from it … be honest with yourself … and then free it to soar upon eagle’s wings … laugh, love, live … and you just might discover the life that you lost on your journey to live.

Quote for today: The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it. Richard L. Evans