I was mowing my yard and I can’t mow it without thinking about you.  Every time!  For one thing, mowing to your specs is and was a tough assignment.  You had your standards and I’m not sure we kids hit them very well.  Plus, I think you loved your yard and loved to mow it personally.

My yard is big and irregularly shaped.  It takes a good bit of work trying to get to those nice, straight lines you always liked.  And I always hear your voice telling me not to use the whole mower, but only half to two-thirds of the mower blade should be cutting grass.  Using the whole mower leads to irregular cuts and missed patches of grass.  So, we only mow half of capacity to insure a good cut.

I remember that and try to follow your guidelines.  Even though I have a big yard and this makes a third to a half more trips up and back, I do it your way.   So, I think I got it all.  I even mowed part of my neighbor’s yard.  We have a bit of  a common area, my part is about 15% and he has the rest but sometimes he mows mine and sometimes I mow his.  I think it makes his yard look funny unmowed when my little strip is mowed.  I like to mow anyway, like you did.  Especially when the grass is thick and beautiful like it is now with all of our recent rains.

Just in time for your birthday, a freshly mown lawn.  It’s good to remember.

Not too long ago, my cousin, Mary Fritts was cleaning out things from her mom’s estate and she found a few pictures and  things related to my side of the family so she forwarded them on to us.  She is Aunt Enne’s daughter and it has been fun reconnecting with her.  One of the items was an empty envelope.  It was empty, but no doubt had contained a letter from my dad  to his parents while he was in the navy. 

I heard very little about his military service. I know it was cut short because of rheumatic fever, resulting in him being discharged early.  He had lots of stories but I just don’t remember them all. Too long ago.  So, what’s so exciting about an empty envelope?  It was mailed from Corona, California, June 15, 1945.   You may not be able to read the envelope, (click on it to embiggen) but here’s what it says on the address:

Mr. & Mrs. J. E. Dorman   (That’s my Mom and Pop)
    Route #1 Box 467         (That’s Home)
        Denison,                      (That’s Heaven)
          Texas                        (Brother, That’s “God’s Country”)

An empty envelope, for sure, but so much info about Dad.  He had a great sense of humor, but unless you were around him at the house, you might not see it as much.  He loved his family, he loved his home town and Texas was the best place to be.  (Still is, Dad.)

My brother and I laughed and perhaps, cried, at the sight of the parentheses.  Dad didn’t write much, but when he did, he almost always had afterthoughts, insights, inside humor to share.  We noted it particularly on the envelopes, or on scratch paper from his desk, or blackboards in class rooms.  It shows how he was thinking as he wrote.  There’s so much more behind these words.  They cannot possibly contain the whole of the message. 

I have to admit, in my own writing, I see the same habits. I use them a lot (perhaps it shows a latent ADD trait?) when writing notes to friends and emails.  In fact, sometimes I have parentheses inside of parentheses inside of … well you get the picture.  I don’t recommend it as a writing style, I just find it difficult to stop. 

So, thanks Mary, for the real treat. You blessed us with your kindness in forwarding these things on to us.   And here’s to you, Dad.  It’s only an empty envelope, but it is so much more.  We miss you bunches, but know that you are enjoying the life, eternal, and as you always sang “joy unspeakable and full of glory”.  We certainly have yet to fancy that fullness of Glory, but we’ll do it, and see you, one day.

The Hope Chapel office was always bright and happy when she was around. (Come to think of it though, that’s the way I think it is, anyway but she made it better.)   Now, she works at the Texas State School for the Blind. I haven’t been to her classroom, but I suspect it is an equally joyous place. (in that frantic, laughing way). I’m glad she is there and using her gifts to bless the students and the faculty.

She was born on Cinco De Mayo, which explains something, but I’m not quite sure what. This year’s celebration was delayed until Saturday night (you know, the even more special Nueve de Mayo) so everyone could come and the yard of Tim and Debbie Bjork would be appropriately decorated and lovely. The decorations were fabulous, the food was outstanding (nice job on the paella, by the way, it was soooo good). And we met people from Lyn’s three main spheres, the Valley, Hope Chapel and the School for the Blind. What a good community of friends.

I hadn’t met many of her co-workers before, and they are an outstanding group. Such a fine bunch of people who serve special needs people in a wonderful way. What a great job you are doing. Kudos to all of you and blessings on you. We loved meeting you.

In the end, Happy Birthday, Lyn. Happy, Happy, Happy Birthday. 50 is nifty, really. It is a mark of achievement. It comes with acres of friends and community who are testimonials to your character, to your loving friendship, to the YOU we all know and love. We think you are fabulous and we don’t care who knows it . Here’s to 50 more great years, you’re just getting started.  (Yeah, I got lots more pictures of the party.   More pictures in my album here)

I also made a video using this cool web site called animoto.com.  Here’s the video: ..

She was the youngest of my dad’s three sisters. (Dad was the youngest of the 7).  When we visited grandparents in Denison, TX, we would see Fred and Enne at their house on Lake Texoma. The picture of Enne reminds me so much of grandma Dorman, those eyes, that chin and  nose – so much Grandma in there. Both were so warm and welcoming, so cheerful about life, or at least that’s my memories. Enne would tell us stories about her kids, then listen to ours with rapt attention and laugh and make us laugh at all the funny events. She was not a comedian, but everything that was funny was even funnier with her.

Her obituary lets us know how she was known and how active she was in the community: “Meme” was known as a fun and loving friend, mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. She could also be very protective. For example, she was President of Peabody Elementary PTA, the McDaniel Jr. High and then Denison Senior High and when her children went to all three schools, she became President of the City Council PTA. “Shorty”, was small in stature but big in spirit.

Her husband, Fred, was another thing. When I was young, he was a GIANT. All adults are big when you’re 8 years old. But then, there was uncle Fred. He was so tall, his grinning face was massive, and those hands which could envelop a basketball … well, I was always afraid my hands would get lost in his grip and never return. I was usually a little nervous about him. In his playfulness, I might end up hanging from a basketball goal somewhere.

I’m lamenting things this week. I lament her loss. But in that loss, I know she was 86, lived a great life, served God, her family and her community well. She modeled character to us all in so many ways. The eighty-six years she lived was a good, full life, I think.

I’m also lamenting the American culture that we value and yet sets us up to be far from our relatives, growing up without tribal ties. I know, I know, they aren’t all good, but when you have almost none, you wonder what you missed. My mom and dad relocated to the lovely west Texas town of Wink in 1949 (don’t get me started) and that 500 mile journey back to Denison became longer and less frequent. After Dad became ill and Grandma passed away (1974 – 1976) the trips never happened. It’s all a part of our society, I know, but I don’t know how much I missed not being a little part of Shirley Sue, Jim, Mary Evelyn, Judy, … all the others and their families. I have cousins and their kids and grandkids all over the US and don’t have a clue who they are, what they do, what kind of people they are.  I find out one of my cousin’s sons has been at UT and is now finishing his master’s degree in San Marcos.  I have family right here in my town and I didn’t know.  It’s probably not a big loss to him, but I’m felling a little sheepish at the moment.   I regret not being more a part of the family. My wife and son think the Dorman Clan started in Wink, Texas.  She’s only met a few others and wonders if the rest are embarrassed to know us  .

So, I regret that I don’t know much about all of you. I’m really sorry I haven’t met most of you and been around you some in your lives.  I do know that I hope you are a lot like Aunt Enne.

I am a morning person, I like getting up early and getting ready for the day.  I love the back half of March because the early sunrise seems to make Spring deliciously enjoyable.  It just feels like spring.  For the last decade or so, it  may have been my favorite time of year.  Now, moving the date up to the first weekend in March has stolen most of those enjoyable mornings.  I consider this a theft of my mental well-being.

Since my wife and I have been leading worship most of our lives, we find that our worship team in specific, and churches in general are among the first to be “punished” by this change.  We are among the first to muscle it up and deal with the lost hour. We start preparations and begin our services an hour earlier, leading a smaller gathering of worshipers who somehow remembered to set their clock ahead, but find it harder to set their alertness ahead.   It’s only an hour!  You finally get used to it.  What’s the big deal?

At the heart of it, I just don’t understand why.  I think it was enacted at a time when we were much more agrarian in nature. Benjamin Franklin may be responsible for the idea producing an essay called “An Economical Project” on the subject in 1794 while in France.  An Englishman named William Willett is responsible for initiating the idea in England in 1907, lamenting the  “waste of daylight”.  When someone suggested he just get up an hour earlier, he was shocked. That would only work for him so let’s force everyone to enjoy this great benefit?

There are only two states who refuse to go along with the insanity, Arizona and Hawaii.  Smart people, and seeming to be smarter every year.  So far, that enticing prospect is not enough to lure me to move there.

All in all, it bugs me that hardly anyone is in favor of it.  It easily gives one more daylight to work.  It forces you to get up earlier to start but gives you an extra hour on the back side to keep working, farming, programming, digging ditches … it doesn’t matter, the sun is still up so you can keep at it.  There are pro’s and cons, but studies show conflicting results.  The Austin Statesman had an article on it this weekend, citing a study in Finland which indicated the instance of heart attacks increased in the weeks following the beginning of DST and decreased in the Fall when the clocks were restored to standard time.  Sleep habits are disturbed, efficiency in the work place / school drop for a period … the change affects us, maybe just a few weeks, but it happens.  The health issues may be offset statistically because the Finnish study found that automobile accidents decreased because people drive better in the daylight.  There are other studies that indicate the opposite, more accidents occur.  ???

Even the supposed energy savings is in doubt since office buildings and school buildings run utilities longer in order to accommodate the longer work day.  The grand sum of the positives doesn’t seem to add up to any total we like.

Again, for me, I don’t understand why.  Few seem to like it, few advocate it as a great savings, but we keep doing it.  Worse, we increase the amount of time we are operating under the Daylight Insanity Time.  If we have to do it, why don’t we shorten it some, like start in May and end in October?

However, I recognize the issue must not be that important.   I am one of the most offended people and I am not motivated enough to start a movement to correct this Time / Health / Sanity issue.  There are other, more important issues to give myself to.  That’s probably the biggest issue.  It’s not a big enough issue so we keep on living with the insanity.

What an incredibly joyous man. I can only picture him with that great big smile and laughing eyes. Every Sunday morning, every Sunday evening, every church function, he was there, happiest in the gathering of the people of God.

There will be lots of stories told about Bubba in this time of mourning and celebrating, and I’ll do my part by remembering three things” Swedish pancakes, typesetting and singing.

Swedish Pancakes: This isn’t so much about Bubba as it is about Mom Ceder, his mother-in-law. I can say it shows Bubba was a smart man, smart enough to recognize character and beauty when he saw it. Bubba married Mom Ceder’s daughter, Annette. Being joined with those two immediately made you a better person, a smarter man and set you up for a life of joy and excitement. Mom Ceder adopted many of us college kids and grandmothered us well. On occasions she would invite some of us to her house for breakfast and she would prepare a feast of Swedish Pancakes, a light, delicate, crepe-like pancake which covered the whole plate. They were delicious. She made them until we cried “stop”. They impressed this west Texas boy who had never had anything like it.  Getting up early was not a normal goal for me back then, but I never turned down an invitation to join Mom Ceder for breakfast.

Typesetting. Newspapers were not always printed on high-speed laser printers, but you probably already knew that. Bubba and four of his brothers worked for the Austin Statesman. Bubba worked for them for 38 years. One of his jobs was as a typesetter, if my memory is correct. Each line of a printed page was cast in a metal mold, producing a line of type (hence a linotype machine got its name). The lines were assembled together in a block the size of a page. The block would be inked and pressed onto news paper. (the process is more complicated but …)  So, picture in your mind the typeset for a page ready to print. It is a mirror image. The letters are backwards and sentences start from right to left, not left to right as we normally read. Bubba once told me that after years of preparing the type and looking for editing errors in that backwards block of type, he was able to read backwards print almost as fast as reading it in the normal form. You might not be impressed with this, but to me, I think that is pretty cool, being agile enough of mind to learn to read the text of a block of print backwards. In life, one has to be able to adapt and learn to cope with new things. Bubba, you are a cool dude.

Singing: Bubba loved to sing. He grew up singing in quartets and choirs in church. The main reason I knew Bubba is because we both attended Central Assembly of God Church. I grew up in that denomination and attended Central during my college years. There are lots of good things about the denomination but one of the more lasting contributions will be that they are a singing bunch. They love to sing their theology and their relational experience with God. Bubba sang bass in quartets. His brother Johnny sang tenor, a sweet, sweet tenor. On many occasions at the end of Sunday evening services, they would gather around the organ and begin to sing gospel songs. Sometimes I would get to sing lead or baritone with them. I didn’t think of myself as a vocalist, but I can tell you, standing next to those two gentlemen, almost anyone would sing better and sound better. It was a sweet time.

Today, the music scene is heavily focused on solo voices, front singers. The art of group singing isn’t practiced nor appreciated as much, it seems to me. Singing with Bubba and Johnny added to my appreciation of harmonies, full chordal expressions by group voices, in tune, on pitch, moving together in wonderful harmonies.  Thanks, friends, for loving to sing.

We mourn the loss of Bubba. We celebrate his life, rejoice that he is Home with Christ and no doubt, adding his voice to the great chorus of praise around the throne. I am grateful to have known him and be counted among his great crowd of friends and family. I carry wonderful memories of eating Swedish pancakes and singing quartet style until late in the evening because of you, Bubba.

Thank you, God, for this fine man. Thank you friends, who came to honor Bubba. It was good to see you and be with you. You did “good.”  Bubba would be very happy and smiling at all the stories.

Blessings,

Jack

P.S.:

Bubba’s obituary can be seen here:  Obituary:

A guest book can be seen until Feb. 1st.

Ain’t life grand?  I laughed this week while reading an article about irritating phrases.  It seems researchers at Oxford compile a database of words and phrases, monitoring usages and practices.  This list appears in a book called Damp Squid by Jeremy Butterfield.  I haven’t read the book but I found the list worth a comment.  Hopefully they won’t mind if I give you this list since you can find it in the link above.

The top ten most irritating phrases:

1. At the end of the day
2. Fairly unique
3. I personally
4. At this moment in time
5. With all due respect
6. Absolutely
7. It’s a nightmare
8. Shouldn’t of
9. 24/7
10. It’s not rocket science

I didn’t get to vote on this list.  You probably didn’t, either.  Some are irritating to me and some not.  Our pop culture and rapid distribution of ‘cute’ has often led to even the best of words becoming overused to the max.  (Why didn’t ‘to the max’ make the list)?  Who determines the irritancy factor?  I suppose the English have the right since they invented the language in the first place, and I know in general they think we have utterly slaughtered their language.  Since my roots are in West Texas, I believe I take that ‘slaughtering’ to another dimension.   They likely could write an entire chapter or more on me alone.

While musing on the list, I was suddenly inspired to try and use them all in one, explosive sentence of irritation.  Enjoy:

With all due respect to the authors of this article, at the end of the day, this fairly unique list is an absolutely fabulous list which shouldn’t of been denigrated even if it’s not rocket science to use the phrases in our 24/7 life-style and I personally, at this moment in time, think it’s a nightmare situation for this belittled list of expressions.

Blessings to all.

jack

It was a treat for us to invite Dean Smith to speak  at Hope Chapel.  Dean has become a good friend in the last few years. I audited a preaching class from him and learned of his love of the scripture and his excellent skills in teaching.  Dean grew up in the Church of Christ tradition and we at Hope Chapel have been blessed by good relationships with the Churches of Christ.  Dean blessed us by telling us his perception of Hope through the years and by challenging us to embrace the leadership God has given us.  Dean is currently leading a ministry called Urban Connection Austin.  Thanks, Dean. It was a terrific sermon and we are so glad you joined us for the installation service.

A couple of things stood out to me yesterday.  As I was preparing for the service, it struck me how blessed I am to have Geno as a friend, for us to be pulling for each other.  I am very happy to be entrusting our family with Geno.  He is a trustworthy pastor, a God-fearer, one who will lead us well.

Secondly, I quoted Psalm 133 (NIV) in my sermon.

How good and pleasant it is
when brothers live together in unity!

It is like precious oil poured on the head,
running down on the beard,
running down on Aaron’s beard,
down upon the collar of his robes.

It is as if the dew of Hermon
were falling on Mount Zion.
For there the LORD bestows his blessing,
even life forevermore.

It is sometimes difficult for former leaders and current leaders to co-exist in the same organization.  Geno and I are committed to demonstrating it can be done.  Every time we work well together, in harmony, it is like precious oil being poured on our heads. It is a flowing of God’s anointing oil over our heads and whole beings.  I grabbed a bottle of oil and began pouring it into another container at hand.  It was a spontaneous thing which helped me (and hopefully others) see the point.   As I watched that golden liquid pouring down, I could see the fluid nature of the oil, the representation of unity, of togetherness with God all over it.   As we, who follow Christ, work together in our city, I think that is what should be seen, the unity of the Spirit flowing like oil.  “For there, the Lord bestows his blessing, even life forevermore. “  I’m not sure words explain what happened as well as being in the moment, seeing that flowing oil, but there you have it.

So, it was a good day.  I enacted my fatherly role over the congregation and blessed them in this transition and blessed Geno as a great friend and co-laborer.  I think I will have more to say on fathering at another time so stay tuned.

blessings

jack

jkd

Psalm 3, You oh Lord are my Shield and my Glory

Psalm 3, Defender (how many are my enemies)

Psalm 4, Answer Me, Father when I Call

Psalm 4, Answer Me (Evening Song)

Isaiah 52, How Precious the Hope

Come Down, O Love Divine