Journey to Croatia…Post # 1

Croatia 371Welcome to a multi-post visual and literary description of our recent trip to Croatia. The purpose of these posts is to reveal the beauty of this country (limited to the areas that we visited) and to share some general information about the geography, people and culture. Croatia used to be a part of Yugoslavia, but became its own nation (one of seven) after Yugoslavia split into ethnic regions. Although this Balkan area of Eastern Europe has been a land familiar with ethnic conflict for centuries, the Croatian people are all about moving forward with a purpose of peace and progress. The photographs presented in these posts were taken by my wife, Cheryl, and myself…we snapped away throughout our journey. Thank you for joining us!

Our trip to Croatia began with a missed connecting flight from Frankfurt to Split. We detoured to Dubrovnik, which we were to visit later in the week, and had a five-hour layover before heading to Split. Although exhausted, this proved to be a blessing as we were personally escorted by a gracious taxi driver to a small seaside town near the airport for dinner. Cavtat (pronounced Savtaut) proved to be one of the highlights of our vacation and garnered a second visit when we returned to Dubrovnik as planned.Croatia 024Croatia 008That evening, we witnessed a beautiful sunset over the calm Adriatic Sea while dining at a wonderful seaside cafe. Upon our return to this enchanting city, we began to explore and enjoy the history, beauty and people. We found Croatians to be friendly, hard-working, fashionable and confident people. Also, we were impressed that all spoke English which gave us more opportunities to easily interact with them.Croatia 364With an abundance of steep paths traversing buildings, we occasionally encountered a cat or dog-none of which bothered us. Cafes are abundant in every town, and Cavtat was no exception. The local cuisine is terrific, with sea food reigning supreme throughout the coastal towns. Octopus seemed to be a regular menu item ! Italian dishes are common as the Venetians controlled this area for centuries before Napoleon’s reign over Europe. Prices are reasonable and the food fresh and of high quality. The service is exceptional. Also, the country has made a concerted effort to keep the cuisine uniquely native. We did not see one American fast food restaurant in the areas we visited. However, we did see some unique food signage along the way, such as Fast & Slow Food cafes! Croatia advertises her own beer in many places.Croatia 695Church steeples dot the landscape throughout Croatia, as do prominent cemeteries. Mountains flank the sea and provide a vivid backdrop to the azure Adriatic. A wide range of architecture has been generous to this region due to the variety of conquering peoples over an extended period of time. Most older towns have multiple churches, narrow streets between buildings, a multitude of stairs and steep paths, and breath taking views of the sea and mountains. The red-tiled roofs are as common as our shingled roofs, and provided a vivid reminder that we were not in Kansas!Croatia 353Croatia 011Croatia 357Croatia 017 As we strolled through the shops, enjoyed a light lunch, and walked along the paths adjoining the sea and up the mountains, we were overwhelmed with a deep appreciation for this experience. Not only was the scenery beautiful, but the climate was moderate with temps in the 70s and low humidity. Cavtat is truly a gem among many gems along the coast of Croatia.??????????Croatia 699Croatia 843

It’s Never Too Late For Lilacs

??????????When I was a child, my mother shared a tradition with my two sisters and me which continues to serve-up fond memories at this time of year. Mom was from the country formerly called Yugoslavia.

Every May Day (May 1st) was a day of celebrating the end of a long winter, the promise of a fruitful summer, and a pinch of kindness. The act of kindness which our mother taught us involved flowers and anonymity! The flowers were usually lilacs because our home was blessed with a row of bountiful lilac bushes. These bushes often produced bumper crops of the largest, most colorful, and fragrant lilac blossoms I have ever seen. Simply to view them from afar and catch a whiff of their scent was pure joy.

Rather than call our sharing of these wonderful blossoms a random act of kindness, it was actually a deliberate act of kindness. Randomness has no place in my way of relating to kindness…either you are kind and perform acts of kindness on purpose or you don’t. Simple, but that’s how I see it.

This particular act of kindness went something like this; we made construction paper baskets with paper handles. The colored construction paper was decorated with warm messages and the best child drawings we could create. Mom would encourage us, but left the designs to us. The ‘baskets’ were shaped into a curve to hold the flowers. We would select the biggest and most colorful blossoms, clip them from the bushes and fill our baskets to the brim. Sometimes we would make three or four baskets each.

Next, we would give serious consideration as to whom would receive our treasures. This took some effort as we graded our neighbors based on their kindness, perceived need, whether they received a basket the previous year, and so on. Again, mom would offer her input, but left the final decisions to us.

Then came the exciting part. We would stealthily walk the neighborhood, hiding behind cars, trees and bushes until it was time to strike. I shudder to think what would happen to us if we did such a thing in today’s culture of fear. Back then we were free. When we thought the ‘coast was clear’ we would run to the front door, hang the basket on the door knob, ring the bell and scurry to hide…and wait…and watch.

The anticipation of waiting for the door to open was exciting. As the lady of the house opened the door she would look around for someone. Upon seeing no person, she would notice the basket of fresh blossoms, take them from the door, glance around once more and then retreat inside. The smiles on the recipient’s faces was worth every ounce of energy and time spent on creating these gifts.

The simple joy of blessing someone anonymously still warms my heart and brings a smile to my face, too. Mom knew something wonderful and chose to share it with her children: giving is far greater than receiving. And, for that eternal truth, I and my sisters are forever grateful. Thanks mom for teaching us how to give without expecting something in return, except for the satisfaction of ‘making someone’s day’ !

P.S. I posted a photo of Tulips because Lilacs haven’t bloomed yet. It’s not what is given that really matters as much as why and how the gift is offered.

Daffodils Springing Forth Hope

Image

??????????????????????????????? It is the advent of another spring in the Midwest. As usual, the weather is unpredictable, with one day sunny and 78 degrees and the next rainy and 43. It is this rain which ushers in an abundance of green. From the hardened cold earth of winter, life erupts in vibrant shapes and colors. Each plant and tree is unique. I have found that with some flowers and plants, the unopened blossom can be as beautiful as the fully bloomed flower. Such is the case with these gems. The green will give way to bright yellow in short order, and the stems will sway toward whatever direction the sun’s rays fall upon them. Nature is simply so wonderful to behold !   ( Psalm 96: 11 & 12 )

STAFF of LIFE

Wheat Field (Olathe) 6-1-12 am 014

Wheat, the staff of life, and so much more. The green blades to golden grains not only provide food for the world (sorry to all those who are gluten intolerant), but create a collage of beauty as they germinate from bright green sprouts in the winter, then grow into light green stalks in spring, and eventually turn into golden strands with prickly heads of grain in summer. Wheat is at its most exquisite best when a gentle breeze blows the mature stems in patches of waves that seem as light as clouds. Mesmerizing to watch. When shafts of early or late sunlight ply across a wheat field, an intense gold color presents itself in majestic panorama. Absolutely beautiful. And, when the combine or scythe take down the grains in early summer, the transition from a dormant seed to a life-giving grain is powerful. Quite transforming. To witness the staff of life develop from seed to strand is nature’s art in progress. I count this process a privilege to witness every year. So, I encourage you to grind some wheat, knead some dough, bake a loaf, and enjoy a hot slice of bread with a fresh pad of butter on it. Yummy to be sure, and one of life’s simple pleasures!

MARK-ING ST. PATRICK’S DAY

DSC00738Whenever I think about St. Patrick’s Day, my mind immediately goes to an old friend of mine. His name is Mark Manning…Irish through and through. My friend in not physically with us anymore. He left us almost three years ago. It doesn’t seem that it’s been that long, though.

Occasionally, we are blessed to cross paths with a truly remarkable person. Mark was this and so much more. I could easily lavish a plethora of positive adjectives concerning this unique and gifted man. However, I will share only a couple of his most endearing qualities. I almost failed to mention that Mark was a quadriplegic, an accomplished artist, history teacher, and faithful servant of Christ.

Mark entered my life, or I should say we crossed paths, while attending the same church many years ago. One of my fondest memories is when he invited me and Cheryl to attend his family’s St. Patrick’s Day gathering. This was an honor, and a rather large gathering, too. The Manning clan is numerous and knows how to throw a good St. Pats party! Mark’s brothers, sisters and mom are the most welcoming group of people I have come across. Mark stood out among them all. He engaged us from the moment he noticed we were at the clubhouse. He made us feel comfortable, and talked to us like we were old friends. Not many people have this ability.

One of the qualities I want to share about Mark was his unassuming, and humble personality. Although he sat in a wheelchair, he was the tallest person everywhere he went. He reached out to others and made them feel special. He always asked how one was getting along in life, and he meant it. He would encourage. He would teach without you even knowing it. He would point you in the right direction, and encourage you. I never walked away from spending time with Mark saddened because he was crippled physically. Instead, I always left him a better person than when I greeted him. Amazing how he had that effect on everyone.

Mark was an inspiration. He accomplished more than most, and without the use of his legs and only with very little function of his arms and hands. As I mentioned, he was an excellent artist who used the medium of watercolors to express his inward poetry. Mark created an annual  community outdoor art exhibit which was sponsored by his city and local businesses, and which received much recognition. He majored in art history and shared his passion with others. He became a Christian and was responsible for leading his family and many friends to the Source of his strength.

For those of you who know the difficulties of paralysis, Mark handled this disability with strength and grace. He was forced to rely upon the aid of others to perform even the most mundane personal tasks, yet he  maintained his dignity. Finding reliable and good care was always a challenge, but he never complained about that. In fact, I don’t ever recall Mark complaining about anything! Being around him was refreshing.

Mark was a great listener, and offered wise counsel, but not too much of it. He was insightful and could be firm when necessary, but was gentle by choice. I miss him. I miss his smiling face and kindness. I miss his advice. I miss our fellowship. However, I don’t miss his physical handicap, and am so looking forward to seeing my friend run and jump and walk when I reach my final destination. I am confident that Mark will be among many who will greet me. What a day that will be!

Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Mark.

13 on 14

???????????????????????????????Before I knew you, I loved you. The image I had of you then is not much different than the image I now behold. The early love I had for you has blossomed into today’s love. Both are right. Both are dynamic. Both are real, as are you.

A great many days have transpired between that first glance and this morning’s kiss. Some days have been fun while some difficult. Many have been happy and a few tragic. Mostly, they have been satisfying. Today is such a day. And, I am the better for every one of them.

Thirteen is my favorite number simply because we chose to be wedded on that day…a Friday as I recall. No superstition and nothing mystical. Magical, perhaps. Since this is 2013 and we were married on the thirteenth, I have decided to honor you with thirteen reasons as to why I love you so much. Valentine’s Day should be on the thirteenth!

Before I begin my list, I am compelled to state the obvious. My feelings run deep and strong for you, like a powerful mountain river as it empties into the ocean. You captivate me. You always have. It’s hopeless, your influence over me. I am drawn to you as steel is to a magnet. I couldn’t resist even if I tried.

Sweetheart, here are thirteen reasons as to why I love you and what I see in you. They are by no means comprehensive.The words I write are inadequate, but I must try. Please forgive my omissions.

1. Inward beauty so rich that it would take a notebook full of words to describe.

2. Outward beauty so full that I still can’t take my eyes off of you.

3. A tender heart, full of compassion, which grows each year.

4. Creative abilities too numerous to mention, but obvious to all who know you.

5. Character that is undergirded by integrity, honesty and fairness.

6. Intelligence that logically reveals itself daily.

7. Insight that defies my understanding, but which I rely upon.

8. Sense of humor that continues to put a smile on my face each day.

9. Courage to stay the course, even when the road can’t be seen.

10. Wisdom that knows what and when to speak, and when to be silent.

11. Strength of will, especially when each day can be tougher than the day before.

12. Humility in everything you are and do.

13. Love that stretches to Heaven, and back again to those entrusted to your care.

Simply amazing is what you are. To be associated with you would be enough, but to have the privilege of being your husband is oh so wonderful. School girl to my girl…is like a dream come true for me. Thank you, Cheryl, for making my life so refulgent. With all my love, Michael.

D U P L I C I T Y

Lake Tahoe Trip 112There are moments in our lives which force us to pause and evaluate life in general. There was one such ‘moment’ which occurred this past summer that temporarily affected my focus. In fact, this event made me feel like I was viewing the situation through a camera lens-seeing the situation from a macro perspective, then panning out to zoom, and finally adjusting to find a field of view somewhere in between. Because this event personally affected me, I was compelled to put my thoughts to paper. This exercise was cathartic for me, and hopefully, beneficial for others. I mean to offend no one, especially those who were involved in some way. Below are my thoughts as I expressed them in a memo-to-self during the circumstances I am about to describe.

The contrast of today versus yesterday is stark. Today, I am sitting at a picnic table in a park at 7 am in the morning (writing these thoughts) while yesterday evening I was sitting in a pew in a church. Today, as the sun rises and the birds are singing, all I can think about was last night and experiences over the course of many years. You see, a long-time friend of mine died and it was his memorial service that my family and I attended. My friend committed suicide four nights ago. He was sixty-four.

Out of respect for the family’s privacy, I choose to call this individual, Clyde (not even close to his real name). Clyde was an enigma. To those who knew him personally and professionally, he was one thing, and to himself, he was another. To the folks who knew Clyde well enough, he was certainly a unique individual who made you think he was a sincere and honest man. Clyde was one of those special people who made an impact wherever he went. He was ‘colorful’ to say the least.

Where to start is not entirely clear to me, so I will first talk about his positive qualities. I will skip his manifold achievements because they don’t really make the man…they only clothe him so-to-speak. Believe me, though, when I say that Clyde had many admirable accomplishments, and the awards to prove it. He was a leader, a motivator, a humorist, an entertainer and a teacher. It appeared he was a good husband and father, but only his family knows if that is true.

My friend was a generous soul who assisted many throughout his lifetime. He gave of his financial resources, of his time and of his talents. He had a soft spot for the less fortunate and was constantly involved in charitable work. Deep down inside, I believe Clyde had a servant’s heart.

On the other hand, Clyde had several not-so-endearing qualities. He was controlling and a micro-manager. He was openly opinionated. He was a self-promoter (par excellence) and just about everything he did publicly (and often privately) seemed calculated and self-serving. To most, this may be a revelation, but when you spend enough time around someone, certain patterns become clear. Clyde didn’t lack self-esteem. In a way, he reminded me of a cross between Bill O’Reilly and Rush Limbaugh. Occasionally, he could appear to be quite humble. I liked him best during these moments.

I loved Clyde. I didn’t always like him, though. He would have understood and accepted this statement.

In spite of his sometimes questionable motives, I believe Clyde loved others, including God. This is where the enigma surfaces. I’ll do my best to explain that Clyde was a walking, breathing, talking contradiction of a human being.  All that I share is my opinion based on knowing him for twenty years. We served on church leadership teams, co-sponsored many youth activities (including two mission trips), and were personal friends. I believe I knew Clyde pretty well. There are a lot of memories; most of them pleasant.

“Why did you do it, Clyde?” That is the question so many are asking in the wake of his suicide. The circumstances that lead to this action are important, but not as critical as the deeply embedded reasons behind it. However, some background is necessary to understand the dilemma Clyde faced. I hold to the conviction that anyone who commits this horrible act is not thinking straight, no matter how calm and organized they may be prior to or at the time of self-infliction. Also, suicide is a very selfish act because the amount of collateral damage to others is not clearly considered as the decision is made to end one’s life. The consequences for those left behind can be extreme and last indefinitely.

Clyde got himself into a real jam by sacrificing his ethics to save his image and maintain his standard of living. He compromised one of his supposed core values of honesty for ill-gotten gain, and got caught. Four years ago Clyde was convicted of financial fraud. His business license was pulled and he was placed on probation by the state. Few were aware of this crime, or the fact that he had some earlier unethical business dealings which he was reprimanded for, but not convicted. As a result of having his business license cancelled, this set off a chain reaction to compensate for lost income by cheating others, and stealing their monies. Four years ago, Clyde could have chosen to change course and make honest and necessary changes. He was a smart and innovative individual, and could have survived the economic downturn. This would not have been easy nor was it a pleasant prospect to start over at a later age in life, but it was doable. I have specifically been vague as to the nature of Clyde’s business in an effort to conceal his identity with the purpose of limiting his family from public ridicule and further scrutiny.

In order to preserve his lifestyle (albeit at a lesser income) and to maintain the image he had spent a lifetime crafting, Clyde defrauded people-especially the elderly and his friends-in order to keep the money flowing. His crime was a type of Ponzi scheme wherein folks were promised large returns on supposed investments. Lies were told and people defrauded. Trust was used as a tool to manipulate. The problem with Ponzi schemes is there is no end to the masquerade. For every dollar illegally taken, another dollar would be owed to an anxious investor. So, another unsuspecting client would be sold on the ‘investment’ in order to secure the cash to pay his investors a return on their ‘investment’, and to line his pockets.

The law was closing in, and a warrant for his arrest imminent. The amount of stolen money was not Madoff-like, but exceeded a million dollars. Knowing Clyde well enough, I am confident that he could not bear the thought of public humiliation. Pride is a powerful motivator, and engrained itself deep within Clyde’s soul. I believe Clyde considered the impact his suicide would have on his family. He loved them. However, the weight of his punishment and height of his hypocrisy was too much for him to bear. His perspective was obscured. He chose poorly. Some say those who commit suicide take the ‘easy’ way out. In some respects that is true. It is also permanent (at least in this life). The remaining loved ones who have to face each day without their beloved, and with the knowledge, obligations and legacy of what he did, become as much a victim as those who were robbed. It seems as though all the good Clyde did throughout his life was erased over the course of the last decade, and particularly the day he took his life.

Because Clyde stole money from friends, and especially from the most vulnerable-the elderly shows his level of selfishness and desperation. His actions beg an answer to this question, “If he swindled some recently, how long has he been doing this sort of thing?” Unfortunately, I question his ethics with regard to every charity he started and ran, and every cause he helped. I don’t want to go there, but am compelled to question his motives for just about everything he did. How tragic.

My heart goes out to Clyde’s family and closest friends. Only by God’s inexhaustible grace will they be able to successfully navigate beyond these troubled waters. I am sorrowful for all of the victims, and hope they will be able to recover all (or at least a portion of) their ‘investments’. If they don’t, I hope financial hardship won’t be their path. Also, I hope forgiveness takes root. And, to the disillusioned, I hope they won’t see all business people who work in the financial realm as frauds and charlatans.

There is the potential within each one of us to be a Clyde. If we fail to look in the mirror and honestly assess our motives and actions, then we can fall into the trap of rationalizing lies for truth. If we don’t become accountable to others, we can succumb to duplicity, like Clyde did. If we fail to be transparent and authentic, then our lives can be lived-out as a sham. Pride, prestige, conceit, arrogance, greed, etc. are all anathema in God’s economy. He commands us to be pure in heart, honest, compassionate, authentic, noble, and so much more than we can ever become on our own. This is why we need Him actively working in our lives to transform us (daily) into His image.

If you don’t adhere to this spiritual viewpoint, at least adhere to something that promotes higher virtues than your own self-centeredness. Otherwise, you may be transformed into Wall Street’s or Hollywood’s image of success at any cost, and duped into thinking you can do, and handle, anything of your chosing. Nothing can be farther from the truth. The reality is, we are weak. We need a source of power that is greater than ourselves One who is benevolent, kind, forgiving, and compassionate, but also just and righteous. I look to Christ for such a power. When the siren song of the world beckons, I can always trust in Him to firmly hold me. I may drift off course or become shipwrecked, but He will never let me drown…fail, yes, but not drown.

We rob ourselves if we settle for less than a life of integrity. We rob others, too. There are two roads we can travel through life. The way of the weak is heavily traveled, alluring, and is deceitfully easy to follow. The moral high ground is the way less traveled and requires more effort. Often, those who traverse this road are like salmon swimming upstream. The journey may be very difficult at times, but the end result produces something wonderful. It creates refreshing and honest lives. I would much rather hear, “Well done”, even if I were a bit beat-up, instead of, “Why did you compromise so much for so little?”

What Was He Thinking ?

Dad 1945Dad 1949I was clueless. My dad wanted to take me to his barber on my sixteenth birthday. I was petrified of what the end result would look like!

I came of age in the early seventies, and grew up with my mom, two sisters, two dogs and an ever-changing number of cats. All but one life form in our house was male, plus me. However, our male dog bonded with my mom rather than the only other male in the house. Oh well.

My mom was rather progressive and liked my hair long while my dad was a bit more old-fashioned (WWII veteran, but not over-the-top). The oddity about his request was simple…I never went to the barber with my dad since we didn’t live together and he let me take care of my haircuts and clothing choices.

I protested to my mom that dad’s request was strange and that I was a candidate for a buzz. She assured me that he simply wanted to be more involved in my life which scared me at the time. Sure, I wanted to spend time with my father, but not at his barber’s shop!

Because I couldn’t get my mom to help me out of the situation, and I couldn’t give my dad a good reason not to go with him, I acquiesced. From that moment until I sat in the barber’s chair a week later, I fretted about the outcome. Worry never helps, though. I even discussed this with my best friend, but he was no help. Rather, he thought the whole thing was funny. That’s what good friends do…they laugh at stuff that’s funny to them, but menacing to you and me. Interesting how time changes our perspective about the humor in such experiences.

The moment arrived. Dad and I walked into his local barber’s shop-a throwback from the 1940s. I sat down with men three times my age as I watched the stealthy barber practice his trade. Before I was ready, he called me to his chair. I was surprised when he asked me what type of haircut I wanted. I assumed my father told him to whack the bushy pile of hair off my scalp, but he hadn’t. I was relieved, but still skeptical.

Then the most bizarre moment occurred. After being leaned back in the hydraulic chair, the barber began to lather my face with shaving cream! I barely had peach fuzz so I knew I didn’t need a shave. But, a shave with a straight razor is what I got, plus a pretty good haircut, too. I looked at my dad, and he just smiled. We didn’t really talk about the shave. He just paid the bill and we walked out of that shop side-by-side, father and son sharing a moment that probably meant more to dad than to me (at least at that moment).

Actually, I was aware of what my father had done for me, but it still took time for the impact to really sink in. To be honest, I didn’t think of my dad as being the type to create a sentimental experience. He was a wonderful man, and a good father, but not one to get too intimate with his children. A lot of men were like that in his generation; loving, but a bit formal.

It is rather amazing that his “gift” has had  such an impact on my impression of my father. You see, what he did was give me a ‘rite of passage’ so-to-speak, from a teenager into early adulthood. This was my father’s way of saying, “Your growing up, son, and I know it. In fact, I want to be a part of this transition from child to man”. What he said to me the most, without speaking a word, was this… I love you. Period.

I miss my dad. He died in 1984. My children barely knew him. Fortunately, my wife remembers him well. What really counts is that I knew him, and the love that he had for me. What a tremendous truth to know and experience. So many don’t have this pleasure. I never take it for granted.

Make a memory. Happy New Year.

Good Grief, Charlie Brown ?

Sunday, I attended a funeral service for one of my wife’s dear cousins. Joni died tragically in a house fire on December 13th. With the exception of her family and friends, the terrible shooting tragedy at Shady Hook over-shadowed this solemn event. Understandably, as a nation grieves for the loss of so many, especially the little Autumn morning 10-20-12 030ones.

As I contemplated the hallowed memorials to the slain in Connecticut and the memorial for Joni, I was impacted by the final words from her brother, Greg, while at the grave site. Greg’s insight may not be new, but bears repeating. His simple statement applies to all who are grieving. Greg said we feel so much pain because there is so much love. He said he was very saddened because of his sister’s death, but grateful that pain exists because he knows of the great love that flows from family and friends alike, as well as from his own heart. Greg’s perspective came from the analysis of his feelings and observations. I believe his conclusion to be right on.

Whether loss occurs suddenly or over an extended period of time, if we love we will feel pain. Not by accident, it is love which sustains us during these trials. Pity those who know not love. I am forever grateful for the love of family and friends. I know I shall never stand alone. Because I believe in a loving and compassionate God, I accept His pronouncement that I am the Apple of His Eye which simply means that I am greatly loved by my Creator. Many know such a love as this.

Regardless of one’s faith walk (or lack, thereof) love is paramount if we are to exist in any sort of meaningful and rational way. Trying to make sense of devastating shooting sprees or a fifty-six year old mom and grandmother dying in a fire can be an exhausting and futile search. The bottom line is that we live in a flawed world where bad things happen to good people. I wish it wasn’t so, but it is. I join a mighty chorus of hurting and loving citizens and family members in expressing my condolences, and I reiterate an oft spoken hope for peace on earth, and goodwill to all.

During this Christmas season, and beyond, may we make a point of being better lovers, not in the romantic sense, but in the intimacy of relationships where the negative effects of fear and hate, failures and disappointments, bitterness and anger, (insert nouns here) will dissipate. And, in their place, may unbridled (selfless) love abound. For as the Apostle Paul announces in one of his letters, “Love never fails”. Christ made sure of that when He gave His all for each one of us.