CHARACTER CONTENT
O. K. It’s soapbox time. I’m going to be serious for two reasons (1) to prove that I can be and (2) because I’m passionate about what I’m about to say.
A few days ago, an elderly gentleman talked to me about the section of town where the lives. He said, “It’s being taken over by blacks.” That’s not too uncommon in a southern city where a rather large number of white males are called, “Bubba.” It’s what he said next that got under my skin. He said, “But there are still a few good people living here.” To me that was a horrible remark. The implication is that white is good, and black is bad. It has been more than forty years since Martin Luther King delivered his famous “I Have a Dream” sermon in which he said that he dreamed of “a land where men will not argue that the color of a man's skin determines the content of his character.” I think we’ve made progress to that end, but the man’s careless remark indicates that we aren’t there yet.
Two black men made the news this week in different ways, and their stories illustrate the stupidity of stereotyping. I’m sure all of you know about the first one – Michael Vick. For the most part the largest number of people living in America consider his behavior reprehensible if indeed he did what he’s accused of doing. In today’s Shreveport Times, a black minister, who is a well-known civil rights activist, expressed his display at Vick’s behavior. To be sure he’s entitled to his day in court, but the future looks bleak for him, and if he’s guilty, he deserves to pay for his crimes.
To me it’s unfortunate that most of the world didn’t hear about the second black man. His name is Alley Broussard. You’ve never heard of him? I didn’t think so. Let me tell you a little about him. He played running back for the LSU Tigers. He has one season of eligibility left, but this week he informed Les Miles, the LSU head coach that his heart isn’t in football and asked to be released from the team. During his career he rushed for nearly 2000 yards, and was considered a top NFL prospect, being ranked the Number 4 running back in the country by some experts. So why did he give up football? To concentrate on academics. What’s wrong with the guy? Where did he ever get the idea that you go to college to get an education? He’s expected to graduate from LSU in December. Believe it or not some Louisiana people are suggesting that he should get his degree elsewhere. I don’t know the details, but on the surface my hat’s off to Alley. He’s got his priorities right. A professional football career would only serve him until he suffered a career ending injury in the NFL. I just wish you had heard as much about Alley Broussard as you heard about Michael Vick.
So back to my original point. How totally ignorant, unfair, prejudicial, and just downright racist it is to judge people like Brossuard as “bad people” because their skin pigmentation has a different hue from mine. I believe in a level playing field for everyone. The “content of character” statement resonates with me, and I think it should for everyone. I do not believe in giving a man special privileges because he’s black, but neither do I agree with treating him as subhuman for the same reason.
NO SPACE FOR HATE
I picked up this thought from Fred Lowery, a local Baptist preacher. I worked a funeral service he conducted this past week. He had the sad responsibility to find words of inspiration for a family who grieved over an 86-year-old grandfather and father, who was brutally murdered. His body was dismembered. Our whole community has been in shock. I was amazed when Fred said these words, “We can’t allow bitterness, resentment, and hate to take up space in our hearts.” Amen
The Tumor Tumult (6)
For the past few years it has been our privilege to know a wonderful lady named Dee Gray. Dee is a little past 80, but she’s one of the most positive, feisty persons I’ve ever known. She’s dealt with cancer, diabetes, heart problems, and other health issues, but until recently she lived in her own apartment, drove her own car, and stayed active in painting. She’s on dialysis three times a week. A year ago she underwent a surgery to correct some abnormalities in her leg. I’ve never seen a worse looking leg. They were talking amputation. Today, I saw her stand up and walk with the help of a walker. That’s amazing when you consider the fact that I was asked if I would be available to conduct her funeral just a few months ago. She still hasn’t given up her apartment although she’s living with her daughter, and she said, “If I can ever get in it, I can drive my car.” Whether she should or not is something else again. During my visit with her, she told me that she had surgery on her brain back in 1987. It was similar to my prospective surgery. She walked me through the whole process step by step, and even let me feel the place where they made entry into her skull. She talked about it like it was just all in a day’s work. She and her late husband spent most of their life farming. Brain surgery was a breeze compared to drought, low cotton prices, insects, and cotton’s competition with polyester. My conversation with her lifted my spirits, and encouraged me greatly. She’s a confidence builder
Raising a Modern Day Knight
I want to get away from my medical problems for awhile and tell you about a special experience I had in Virginia last week. My purpose for being there was a ceremony honoring my grandson, Hunter’s transition to manhood. We started out with a dress rehearsal (without Hunter of course). Elliott, Hunter's father and my oldest son, drove us to a bicycle trail that runs alongside the Potomac River. We were given pieces of authentic Roman armor, which each of us would give Hunter. About 12 to 15 men participated in the experience. Men were stationed about every 150 to 200 yards along the trail. Elliott and Tad (Hunter's great uncle) went back to get Hunter. Or course Hunter’s birthday was coming up, and Tad travels a lot, so it didn’t really tip him off when he saw Tad. Tad videotaped the whole experience. The armor pieces corresponded to the armor mentioned in Ephesians 6. I was at the next to last station. I had the opportunity to place the helmet of salvation on Hunter’s head. I walked backwards, looked at him and the entourage that was now following him, and talked to him about what it means to wear the helmet of salvation. I just asked everybody to make sure I didn’t run into a tree. I had videotaped my part when I thought I wasn’t going to make the trip, but it was so much better to do it in person. Finally we reached the terminus and Elliott gave him the sword of the spirit. After that we had a wonderful picnic lunch. Chef Elliott grilled steaks and salmon. That’s not bad eating for a picnic. If Elliott needs a job after the army thing is over, I’m sure he can find employment as a gourmet chef.
I wish more people would think about doing a similar ceremony. You don’t have to do the armor thing, but a ceremony into manhood can be enormously important. I’ll never forget the way Elliott made his transition. During his first year in school he lived with my parents in Clyde, Texas. I still remember leaving Clyde to return to Iowa. I hugged him. I couldn’t think of any super important words to say. I don’t recall what I actually said, but I knew that my house would never be his permanent place of abode again. It was tough. I did it three other times, and it was never easy, but I think the first one was the worst. I just wish I could have had the good sense to do something like this.
You can find several ideas for such a ceremony in
Raising a Modern Day Knight, A Father’s Role in Guiding His Son by Robert Knight (not to be confused with the Texas Tech basketball coach).
The Tumor Tumult (5)
I haven’t reported much in the last few days because I was out of town, and because there wasn’t much to report.
Prior to the diagnosis of a brain tumor I had been scheduled to fly to Virginia to participate in my grandson’s “Celebration of Manhood” ceremony, which coincided with his 18
th birthday.
On the advice of my general practitioner we canceled the reservations.
When I met with Dr. Nanda, the neurosurgeon he told me that I’ve had this condition for 15 or 20 years, and he saw no reason to restrict me.
I’ve been cleared to return to my work with the funeral home, and we were able to get the flight reinstated.
I had the unrepeatable and unparalleled experience of helping my grandson observe his transition into manhood by placing the helmet (authentic replica of a Roman helmet) of salvation on Hunter’s head.
I returned to Shreveport yesterday. Today Ann received a call from Dr. Nanda’s office. We have scheduled my surgery for September 10. I also had another CT scan today. Everything looks positive at this point.
STAY OF EXECUTION
If you know me, then you know I’m going to poke fun at grim things, although what I have to report is not grim at all.
Ann and I saw Dr. Nanda this afternoon. We were highly impressed with him. When he walked into the room I was reading from
The Wounded Healer by Henri Nowen. He said, “Oh, you read Nowen. He’s my favorite author.” We had a discussion about Nowen.
Then we got to my situation. He is quite familiar with my problem, and he is not concerned about immediate danger. He says the pressure now being exerted on my spinal cord is minimal and barely affects my motor skills at the moment. However, the tumor does need to be removed. He just doesn’t think we need to be in a hurry about it. He’s about to be out of town for a couple of weeks.
He gave me two options. One was to wait until I experience significant symptoms and do it then. The other was to do it while I’m still healthy. If I do it while I’m still healthy, the probability that I will have a satisfactory post operative life is much better. To me it was a no brainer. Now for all you folks out there, who questioned whether I have a brain, I can assure you that I do. I’ve seen a picture of it. We agreed to wait until September which is after Ruby’s wedding celebration. In the meantime he has removed all restrictions.
Thank you for your prayers. I never realized that I had so many friends. Don’t stop praying. I think your prayers are doing good. Without them I would never have connected with Dr. Nanda.
That’s a story within itself. He arrived home from London on Sunday night. Jan Elkins, who worked as a health reporter for a local television station for many years, is a personal friend. She caught him between surgeries on Monday, and he agreed me to day. A referring physician couldn’t have done that. When I saw him he said, “Oh you’re the man Jan Elkins called me about. You’ve got friends in high places.” He’s right, but the places are higher than Jan, and that doesn’t take anything away from Jan.
Just before we parted, Dr. Nanda told me, “My mantra is from Paul.” Then he quoted these words from 2 Corinthians 5:8, “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair.” Pretty amazing, consider the guy is a Hindu.’’
Now we move on to the next chapter.
Tumor Tumolt 4
I am posting this on behalf of my father. I am his youngest son Gary.
Norman's internet is offline right now. He has an appointment tomorrow at 1:30pm with Dr. Anil Nanda. He is an internationally renowned Neurosurgeon at Louisana State University-Shreveport. Below is a link to some information on the doctor.
http://www.sh.lsuhsc.edu/Neurosurgery/physicians-staff/staff/nanda.html
Tumor Tumult (3)
We’re beginning the process of appointing elders, so I was asked to share some of my insights on “Shepherds: Their Responsibility and Ours.” I asked Dr. Moller if it would be all right to preach. He said, “Well if you don’t get too exercised.” I told him that I’m not Pentecostal. However I was passionate about my subject and I did “get exercised” but I made sure I stayed behind the pulpit. It went well. He went on to say, "I think it will do you good.
After the sermon, I shared my medical condition with the church. As I expected, they were tremendously supportive. Our people do a wonderful job of caring.
With the weekend, we haven’t gotten much of anything done. We’ve been doing internet research, but that’s about all.
I’ve had occasion to reflect on my condition, my mortality and the future. I remember that Jesus taught us not to worry about tomorrow. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof” is the way the King James Version says it. I tend to be a worst-case scenario person. I play out the worst-case scenario in my mind and when it doesn’t happen, I consider anything short of that as a blessing. However, I’ll admit I’ve done too much worst-case imagining over the past few days. When I’ve had enough of it, I stop and count my blessings. It’s amazing how many blessings I see that I’ve overlooked. When I woke up this morning I stretched and moved my legs. If I were a quadriplegic, I wouldn’t be able to do that. I thank God for the movement in my legs and arms. My mind is clear (well as clear as it ever was). I thank God for rational thought. My family support is incredible. I thank God for my family. People in my church family are willing to knock themselves out to do whatever I need. I thank God for my church family. God is good and life is good. “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things” (Philippians 4:8).
