Quiet Please
“Oh that my grief were throughly weighed, and my calamity laid in the balances together! For now it would be heavier than the sand of the sea: therefore my words are swallowed up.” Job 6:2-3 KJV
Life is a funny thing. Problems arise. Disappointments spread like wildfire. Our pleas go unanswered. The pain almost seems unbearable.
When you are young, life seems more like a challenge than a gift. Things are meant to be conquered, not appreciated. When a tree blocks our path, it’s more of an annoyance than a warning for us to stop, even for just a moment.
Our children know just the right nerve to hit to get us going. The boss keeps piling on the work and nothing we do seems to please him anyway. The phone rings and our thoughts immediately turn to “Oh, no, not them.”
Reaching one goal only results in another one magically appearing. We try to discover our gifts. Happiness plays hide-and-seek with us. The promotion quickly loses its luster.
We try, oh, we try so hard to find that peaceful meadow of contentment. Every time we get close, the winds of trouble blow over our field. The clouds turn to storms. Rains of despair soak our very soul. Where is that peace we so crave?
Besides the aches and pains of an aging body, old age makes you more reflective. Where has the time gone? What do I have to show for my life? I wish I had done this or that differently. You can’t take anything back from which you have already lived through.
Sadly, the clock ticks. Moments are never there to reclaim. You can’t take your kids back in time and play with them more. Soon you discover the company you spent so many years working for, prospers even without you. Trips postponed are now too expensive.
The money you saved was never enough. Friends move away. Dream houses get old and need repairs. When you were a kid, you wished and wished to be all grown up. Now that you got here, you wish you could go back and do it all over again, only better this time.
He was a true American hero. Today the term hero gets tossed around rather freely, but he was a true hero. By hero I mean he thought of our nation before he thought of himself. He didn’t look for personal gain or popularity, but both found him anyway.
Now he just wanted the limelight to dim so he could fade into the background. He had done more than was ever asked of him and now he just wanted to retire to his estate and enjoy it. He so deserved to do just that.
When he got back to his estate he found it in a total mess. Many, many years of not being home had taken its toll on it. That’s okay, he had his retirement ahead of him and he would probably need something to keep him busy anyway. He was always good with his hands, too.
One more tour of duty called him though. Without his knowledge, the new President had appointed him head of the army. He was given the rank of Lieutenant General and Commander in Chief. The Senate unanimously confirmed the appointment.
Imagine his surprise when he read this in the newspaper. No one, not even the President, had asked him if he would be willing to take the position. Still, with a couple caveats, he accepted the role. Those two demands included the provision that he would not have to go into battle and that he would get to choose his commander.
Once the crisis had passed, he returned his attention to his home and he started working on his estate. Maybe now everyone would leave him alone. He would get his wish. For the rest of his life his nation would not call upon him for his services again.
Sometimes I don’t think we realize that the Bible is full of regular people. Our focus seems to be on their “sainthood.” But their “sainthood” usually came much later. No, when they were alive, they lived much like we do every day.
They would wake up day after day wondering if it was going to be a good day or a bad day. When they grabbed a piece of paper the wrong way, they would get a paper cut. As they aged, their joints would hurt and their vision would fade.
If someone would say something hurtful to them, they would get discouraged. When someone’s donkey was going slow, in the fast lane, they would probably yell out a few words they wouldn’t use in church to try and encourage them to move over.
They probably dreamed of bigger dreams and looked for purpose and meaning for their life. Bad choices and good choices would fill their life’s resume. They looked for better jobs and got frustrated with bad ones.
Into their lives came people of great influence as well as those devils who led them in less than religious directions. Some thought their lives would serve some great purposes and they were saddened in later years when they didn’t believe they ever had the chance to achieve that purpose.
Still, they developed great friendships and most probably had strong family ties. When those closest to them betrayed them, they got very upset and hurt. When loved ones, died they were heart-broken and confused.
Life is a strange paradox. It never seems to satisfy our heart’s desire. This is never more exaggerated than when you lose someone very close to you. It’s probably a natural part of loss, but you can’t help but be more reflective.
This past week I lost my father. He was my hero. Although he was in poor health and was suffering from dementia, my eyes never stopped admiring him. You can use all the reason you want, but knowing his days were numbered was no easier when the day arrived.
I feel very fortunate that the hospital allowed my Mom, sister, brother, and me to be near him his last few days. In my Dad’s last two nights, I got to have some alone time with him during the graveyard shift. In his entire time at the hospital he never uttered a word. He was pretty much in a sleep type state where his breathing sounded like snoring. That never stopped me from talking to him, though.
I know Dad could hear us because of the way he reacted to what we said. He only opened his eyes once, but I wasn’t there when that happened. My Mom was, though, and that meant a lot to her. From the numbers that beeped on the machine, I could see him perk up when he heard Mom’s voice.
During Dad’s last night, I spent some of my time alone with him talking about some of my dreams. Through all our years, for whatever reason, I found it difficult to talk to him about them. A big part of the reason was that I probably feared I would fail and then I would feel like I let him down. Somehow that fear didn’t seem important now.
I read to my Dad that night from a book I was reading. Then I realized that for the last few days Dad really didn’t have a chance to take a nap. During his last couple of years he loved taking a nap in the middle of the day. When I would tell him that he was sleeping his life away he would tell me that was his favorite part of the day.
So, I decided to give my Dad a little break and let him take one of those naps he loved. He deserved it. His poor body had been through so much the last week. I just sat in the recliner next to him and was just staring into space. His snoring had gotten lighter, but is was at a steady beat. It was almost like music now. The long days were already starting to take their toll on me, too.
I don’t recall really thinking about much. If someone were to walk in, they would probably wonder what I was gazing at. I just couldn’t believe I was there with my hero and he just wasn’t getting up.
Suddenly the music stopped. I heard nothing coming from Dad’s direction. In shock, I said, “Dad, are you okay?” He took a brief gasp of air. I knew his time was coming to a close.
I got up and stood by Dad’s side. His breaths were more random now. I rubbed his arm and told him it was all going to be okay because he had trained us well. Then I told him that Mom was going to be okay, too. I bragged about the amazing job she had been doing through all this.
Over the span of all this I pressed the nurse’s button three times without a reply. Once I even went into the hallway to find someone. I only found an assistant who started looking for someone. I didn’t have a clue as to what I was supposed to do. It seemed like the little assistant didn’t either.
President John Adams would come to regret his decision to ask George Washington to serve as Commander in Chief. Washington would appoint Alexander Hamilton to command those forces. Hamilton was a bitter rival of John Adams. Still, the conflict didn’t last long and Washington went back to thinking about his Mount Vernon home.
Tough old George Washington wasn’t going to let a little inclement weather stop him from touring his estate. He hopped on his horse and began his tour. Snow started falling. Then it turned into hail and finally a cold rain. The old general had survived much worse conditions in battle.
Hoarseness and chest congestion came to the valiant warrior that evening. In the middle of the night he awoke with a raw, inflamed throat. Labored breathing soon followed. He wouldn’t allow Martha, his wife, to call for help until the following morning. He was tough and he had always shaken off things like this before.
Bleeding the germs out of someone was the “common medical practice” of the day. Before it was over, the first President would surrender five pints of blood. That was about half the blood in his body.
Sensing his time was coming to a close, Washington gave instructions, “Have me decently buried and do not let my body be put into the vault in less than three days after I am dead.” He was terrified that he would be buried alive.
So, on December 14, 1799, George Washington passed away. He was only sixty-seven years old. John Adam hadn’t even finished his first term. Even at that time, it was a young age to die.
Martha Washington sat at the foot of the bed. She would repeat his final words, “Tis well.” Then she would say, “All is now over. I shall soon follow him! I have no more trials to pass through.” She would live about two and a half more years.”
Now our nation had lost its greatest hero. Every soul in America was saddened. Church bells rang. One European traveler stated, “Every American considers it his sacred duty to have a likeness of Washington in his home, just as we have images of God’s saints.”
Taking our Bible characteristics, as we discussed above, it might be a little easier to understand how real Bible characters actually were. They possesses no magic traits, they lived out their lives just like us. Superheroes don’t become superheroes just because they wear a cape. Real superheroes get to be superheroes because of what they do with each and every day they are given.
There was no greater superhero in the Bible compared to this one. How do I know? His very example of daily living was awesome, but that isn’t the real indication of his greatness. There were many great Bible characters before him that led very inspiring lives. No, his greatness was defined by what people thought of him after he was gone.
When Jesus died on the cross, I don’t think even those who killed Him, were proud of their deed. They wanted to make a point and so they took His life. When He didn’t fight back, it must have hit them like a ton of bricks. He was gone and they had killed a good man, even if some of them didn’t believe He was the Son of God.
They probably started remembering all the good things Jesus did and their complaints about Him probably got smaller and smaller, until they faded from existence. Jesus’ legend only grew. Can you name one in the crowd that cheered His execution? Where is that crowd’s cause today?
In Jesus’ death we realized His greatness. While He walked on the earth, He just took it one day and one person at a time. His life on earth was brief, but His memory has lasted thousands of years.
Dad had lost his father when he was five-years-old. His Mom, my grandmother, had done an amazing job with the limited resources she had. She passed away many years ago. The final thing I remember telling Dad was that it was okay for him to go. I told him to go see his Mom and Dad and to tell everyone there that we knew that we missed them.
I called my Mom to tell her I thought Dad was breathing his last breaths. She was downstairs trying to get up to the room, but they were very busy and making it difficult for her to get up there. All of sudden the nurse popped on the intercom, “Can I help you?” I told her my Dad was breathing his last breaths and my Mom was downstairs and I asked if she could move the process along.
When my Mom finally got to the room, I moved away from the bed so she and my brother could be near Dad. He only had two or three breaths left in him. I turned toward the door so no one could see the tears in my eyes.
Mom just stood there in disbelief. She told all who came in that she was surprised it came so quickly.
Very few of us will ever have crowds waiting to hear our every word. We sometimes think that some magic wand is going to strike us and our purpose will suddenly appear. Then we believe we could just naturally step into a world that glows because of our presence.
But life doesn’t work that way. Life happens one day at a time. Not many of us are going to experience the accolades of adoring fans. Your real effect on the lives of others will probably not even enter into anyone’s conversation until your funeral. It is then that people sense the freedom to boast of your impact.
Each day you have the ability to be remembered well, but usually it is in the consistency of doing it everyday that leaves the greatest impression. People can tell if you are trying to get something out of them or if you really care. Caring’s calling card is usually having them feel that you are putting more into them than they deserve. It is in the giving, not the receiving, that we are remembered.
George Washington showed us what it was like to be the perfect citizen. We have all had loved ones that have impacted us so much that our greatest sense of accomplishment is verified by the proudness they express about our achievements. There is no greater example, of what the perfect Christian life should be like, than the life of Jesus Christ. We may never be the top dog in any of these platforms, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to be the second best. We have had some great examples.
Prayer: Dear Mighty Father, There is no way I can ever express how lucky I feel that you sent my father to be my Dad. Thank you so much for the honor of being called his son. Let me start living my days, just like he did, one at a time, thinking of others and what I can do to help them have a better life. Amen.
This blog is written in memory of my Dad, Marion Dean Cruse, who passed away at 1:21 am February 11, 2021. (Blue was his favorite color)
