This Saturday, we will have a memorial service for a dear friend and gracious lady. Trained as a radiology technician, I knew her best as a modern day Job whose body buffeted her soul but could not win. A cancer survivor several times over, she and I visited in passing as she came to church sometimes with family and sometimes alone. Rita was occasionally in the hospital, but those stays were always serious.
I was by her bedside in the Spring of 2004 as she recuperated from a stroke. With her diabetes, TIA's and cancer, this stoke was a big hurdle for her to overcome to make a mission trip to Africa. She explained to me that she always wanted to be a missionary and go to Africa. She had been once in the 1980's and wanted deeply to go back.
So, I asked her, "Rita, are you going to be able to go in a couple of months?" She moved her partially paralyzed body around in the bed. "I will be ready."
And she was! With a little help from the team, she had the time of her life and her presence was more powerful than any could really appreciate. She stood as the quiet conqueror who found Jesus sufficient for everything.
And then Rita came home to face more cancer, and finally complications that took her life.
Rita loved people of which I was one who was blessed.
Saturday we will sing her praises, but she wants us to talk about Jesus. And then she wants some of her ashes scattered over Africa. That we can do, for a lady who was a missionary everywhere she was--even in Africa.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
For jail, this ain't that bad!
I went to jail today. Yep, got picked up, hauled off to the hoosegow, was mug-shotted (and what a mug) and led away to a booth.
My infraction was so bad they arrested my secretary too.
Now, I have to say, I have not been treated like this before. I consider myself laid back and reasonably respectable, but I was treated--actually really well. How I have managed to escape jail this long, I don't know. But, it happened.
This was the Muscular Dystrophy lockup and folks who agree are picked up, photographed, and given a booth at (ok this is really tough) Texas Roadhouse. While I am calling friends and family, they bring me a cheddar burger. Ok, so I am not a high class criminal. This is as close as I want to get to a real jail.
I was surprised by the responses I received. It seemed that when I told my friends I was in jail, they though it was a good thing, and wondered how they could keep me in longer. Such friends as one collects over the years!
My younger brother was the most surprised. I am grateful for that. Sometimes one needs someone to believe in you enough they are amazed that you have landed in the hoosegow. And generous he was in helping me raise my bail.
And then there was my oldest niece. She saw it was me calling and let it go to voice mail.
I think what I learned from this is that in a crisis, never call my niece because I will be dead before she decides to call me back. My younger brother, on the other hand, is always good for a little bail money. These days, that is good to know.
My infraction was so bad they arrested my secretary too.
Now, I have to say, I have not been treated like this before. I consider myself laid back and reasonably respectable, but I was treated--actually really well. How I have managed to escape jail this long, I don't know. But, it happened.
This was the Muscular Dystrophy lockup and folks who agree are picked up, photographed, and given a booth at (ok this is really tough) Texas Roadhouse. While I am calling friends and family, they bring me a cheddar burger. Ok, so I am not a high class criminal. This is as close as I want to get to a real jail.
I was surprised by the responses I received. It seemed that when I told my friends I was in jail, they though it was a good thing, and wondered how they could keep me in longer. Such friends as one collects over the years!
My younger brother was the most surprised. I am grateful for that. Sometimes one needs someone to believe in you enough they are amazed that you have landed in the hoosegow. And generous he was in helping me raise my bail.
And then there was my oldest niece. She saw it was me calling and let it go to voice mail.
I think what I learned from this is that in a crisis, never call my niece because I will be dead before she decides to call me back. My younger brother, on the other hand, is always good for a little bail money. These days, that is good to know.
Same Song, Second Verse?
A couple of months ago, I received a letter from the new CFO of the Baptist General Convention of Texas. She stressed the fiscal responsibility of the new regime.
So, I gave her time to settle in. Then I sent an e-mail to her asking for an accounting of the $27,000,000 in reserves that disappeared during the last administration. I stressed that I knew she had nothing to do with it, but certainly a paper trail could establish broad categories of where the money went.
To this day, I have had no response to my e-mail--not even a "we'll get back to you on this, thanks for writing." Nope, nothing! Nada! The address is correct, at least it is what was at the bottom of the letterhead.
So, I wonder,"Is this new administration really going to make a different in the trust level of the churches?" If they don't even acknowledge the receipt of mail, how can we move forward. At least the last administration bothered to give one the run-around. This one, nothing.
Why is this important? Well, for several reasons,actually.
First, it is important because the actual amount of misuse and fiscal irresponsibility is larger than $27,000,000. Up to $3,000,000. was wasted in the Valleygate fiasco. Now I sit on a board of trustees that is affiliated with the BGCT and I was notified last week their portion to us was dropping yet again. This time it will settle out about a little under what was wasted in the Valley. So, the point is that institutions are moving through cuts in support from the BGCT because money was misused, churches have reacted with mistrust and withholding funds and the institutions must tighten their belts. The $27,000,000 is also important because these reserves represent over half of the annual BGCT budget just flittered away.
While it did not happen on this administration's watch, they have questions to answer to help folks like me trust again.
Apparently, I am not alone. The money is not rushing in. I suggest it will not unless or until all the leadership truly demonstrate fiscal transparency by telling us where all the money went. From my point of view, even if one had little to do with the redirection and misspending of tithes and offerings from the churches, to know what happened and remain silent is to be a part of a lingering conspiracy--which will taint the BGCT for years to come.
If the current leadership waits too long, they will face the unrestrained tide of irrelevance.
So, I gave her time to settle in. Then I sent an e-mail to her asking for an accounting of the $27,000,000 in reserves that disappeared during the last administration. I stressed that I knew she had nothing to do with it, but certainly a paper trail could establish broad categories of where the money went.
To this day, I have had no response to my e-mail--not even a "we'll get back to you on this, thanks for writing." Nope, nothing! Nada! The address is correct, at least it is what was at the bottom of the letterhead.
So, I wonder,"Is this new administration really going to make a different in the trust level of the churches?" If they don't even acknowledge the receipt of mail, how can we move forward. At least the last administration bothered to give one the run-around. This one, nothing.
Why is this important? Well, for several reasons,actually.
First, it is important because the actual amount of misuse and fiscal irresponsibility is larger than $27,000,000. Up to $3,000,000. was wasted in the Valleygate fiasco. Now I sit on a board of trustees that is affiliated with the BGCT and I was notified last week their portion to us was dropping yet again. This time it will settle out about a little under what was wasted in the Valley. So, the point is that institutions are moving through cuts in support from the BGCT because money was misused, churches have reacted with mistrust and withholding funds and the institutions must tighten their belts. The $27,000,000 is also important because these reserves represent over half of the annual BGCT budget just flittered away.
While it did not happen on this administration's watch, they have questions to answer to help folks like me trust again.
Apparently, I am not alone. The money is not rushing in. I suggest it will not unless or until all the leadership truly demonstrate fiscal transparency by telling us where all the money went. From my point of view, even if one had little to do with the redirection and misspending of tithes and offerings from the churches, to know what happened and remain silent is to be a part of a lingering conspiracy--which will taint the BGCT for years to come.
If the current leadership waits too long, they will face the unrestrained tide of irrelevance.
Monday, July 7, 2008
The Cross-Dressing Convention
Cross-dressing is also known as transvestitism. Basically, it is a male dressing as a female for obvious reasons more obvious to some than others. My first experience with this phenomenon was a tale told by a rather bawdy uncle who enjoyed telling stories of his WW II experiences, some of which only occurred in his mind. On this one occasion, according to him, he had left a nightclub with a beautiful young woman on his arm. He hailed a cab and both got into the back seat. Quickly they began to do some lip-locking exercises when at some point Uncle discovered the person at the other end of his kisses was anatomically identical to himself. He hurriedly stopped the kissing, started the pounding, smearing the young lady's make-up and somehow ripping her dress. Both screamed and Uncle bailed from the cab deeply embarrassed.
It has crossed my mind that my convention has engaged in a bit of cross-dressing itself. In doing so, it's sole purpose has been to lure those young pastors who find denominations and conventions unattractive and undesirable into the fold.
Now the convention has done it's research. In fact, that may be where the $27,000,000.00 (yet unexplained)has gone. Somewhere in the bowels of the Baptist Building there is a priceless library saying young pastors prefer networks to conventions and denominations.
So, the BGCT dresses up like a network in order to appeal to this younger crowd.
At the same time, they have told the "over 50" crowd to "Get Lost." Like so many things, it has slipped pass the easily panicked leadership of the BGCT the "over 50" crowd has helped pay the rent for twenty to thirty years while the younger set is spreading their money among their networking friends, of which the BGCT is not one. Hence, the cross-dressing.
To believe this cross-dressing will seduce anyone is not unlike believing the fat lady in the circus can be re-billed as the "Human Zipper." 4,000+ churches and 20+ institutions is a lot to stuff in a skimpy networking dress and be the least bit believable.
But then, things have not been believable in BGCTland for a long time!
It has crossed my mind that my convention has engaged in a bit of cross-dressing itself. In doing so, it's sole purpose has been to lure those young pastors who find denominations and conventions unattractive and undesirable into the fold.
Now the convention has done it's research. In fact, that may be where the $27,000,000.00 (yet unexplained)has gone. Somewhere in the bowels of the Baptist Building there is a priceless library saying young pastors prefer networks to conventions and denominations.
So, the BGCT dresses up like a network in order to appeal to this younger crowd.
At the same time, they have told the "over 50" crowd to "Get Lost." Like so many things, it has slipped pass the easily panicked leadership of the BGCT the "over 50" crowd has helped pay the rent for twenty to thirty years while the younger set is spreading their money among their networking friends, of which the BGCT is not one. Hence, the cross-dressing.
To believe this cross-dressing will seduce anyone is not unlike believing the fat lady in the circus can be re-billed as the "Human Zipper." 4,000+ churches and 20+ institutions is a lot to stuff in a skimpy networking dress and be the least bit believable.
But then, things have not been believable in BGCTland for a long time!
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Xeriscapinging gone wild
In our part of the world, it is always a challenge to have enough water for the population. The summer it became a choice between water to drink and watering the yard, I began to let the grass die.
Then I discovered xeriscaping. Xeriscaping comes from two Greek words: "scaping" meaning all that one can see. "Xeri" meaning living on air. So xeriscaping is the art of turning one's yard into specific plants that can live on air. Thus one solves the water problem.
So with the money that we could have used to travel to the moon, we set out to possess a perfect xeriscaped yard.
Our efforts began with measuring the space in the back yard to be 'scaped. Having successfully staked out a large portion of the middle of the yard, I realized it was too much work for a man my age and promptly hired our yard man to do the digging. He and his wife are roughly the age of my mother. That is why we used the back yard. We have a small language barrier with our yard man so I carefully took staples and heavy string to mark out the exact places I wanted them to dig. Our dog, watched as I meticulously stapled and strung, stapled and strung. Finally, with that done, I stood as erect as I could to survey my surveying. The dog watched all of this, then with the speed of a bullet got up from her reclining position and tore through all the string within seconds. She was a marvel to behold: the speed, the agility, the completeness of her work. Murder was not an option because by this time, we had too much invested in the dog and I understand there are laws against such things unless you take them to the vet and paid them lots and lots of money to put the dog to sleep. The dog looked at me with a knowing grin that seemed to say "Gocha!"
Other slight problems arose. When, finally, the ground was partially prepared, my wife informed me she was not going to walk around the bed to carry out the trash, so, with some quick thinking, I staked out a walkway that appeared at first to be equally dividing the flower garden.
One of my many failing, I freely admit, is my inability to measure with any accuracy any item or space of any kind. I fail at measuring a three foot measuring stick. Go figure! I have purchased the best measuring tapes, electric eye devices, and still, something goes wrong. So, the walkway became a meandering strip of gravel dividing two unequal portions of a project taking on the cost overruns of a government contract.
So, with the digging done (actually purchased at a premium) I found that our local Master Gardeners were emphasizing carefully screened roses for our area to help us with our xeriscaping. I was a sucker and bought 15 of these disease resistant, pest resistant roses. One of them was a climber that survived three weeks of salt water during the hurricane Katrina. How could I go wrong with roses like this? The rest of the batch were different kinds of roses and different colors.
Next came the weed sheets. These are scientifically designed sheets of something scientifically made that cost a lot and promise to help one control weeds in their garden. Guaranteed to last for years, we tried to put these sheets down everywhere including our bathrooms and bedrooms. When one is preventing weeds, one can never be too careful. The sheets actually went down better in the house than in the back yard. Did I mention that one of the other problems we have in our area is high winds?
Now the sheets were down to prevent weeds which seem to be the only thing that grow during droughts. Next we bermed (which is a highly technical term us gardeners use for piling up mounds of dirt) the beds to reflect an artistic flair no one in our family possessed. And frankly it looked like an effort by an inartistic person to look artistic.
Finally, the beds were ready and the roses went in the ground and immediately began to die. Even the Katrina rose began to show signs it was not long for this world. I was somewhat stressed and even more distressed and more than a little depressed. All this work and expense to create a masterpiece of gardening nirvana and now it was dying before my eyes--well except for the rock walkway which the dog had developed a fondness for pooping on.
I searched the internet to find the solution and it became obvious that I was loving my roses to death. I was guilty of over-watering. I guess the concept of xeriscaping had not fully soaked in to my beady little brain. So, I started loving my roses less, watering less, and now I am the proud owner of a garden only the wealthy possess. Except, for some reason, after they have this kind of garden, they are still wealthy.
Then I discovered xeriscaping. Xeriscaping comes from two Greek words: "scaping" meaning all that one can see. "Xeri" meaning living on air. So xeriscaping is the art of turning one's yard into specific plants that can live on air. Thus one solves the water problem.
So with the money that we could have used to travel to the moon, we set out to possess a perfect xeriscaped yard.
Our efforts began with measuring the space in the back yard to be 'scaped. Having successfully staked out a large portion of the middle of the yard, I realized it was too much work for a man my age and promptly hired our yard man to do the digging. He and his wife are roughly the age of my mother. That is why we used the back yard. We have a small language barrier with our yard man so I carefully took staples and heavy string to mark out the exact places I wanted them to dig. Our dog, watched as I meticulously stapled and strung, stapled and strung. Finally, with that done, I stood as erect as I could to survey my surveying. The dog watched all of this, then with the speed of a bullet got up from her reclining position and tore through all the string within seconds. She was a marvel to behold: the speed, the agility, the completeness of her work. Murder was not an option because by this time, we had too much invested in the dog and I understand there are laws against such things unless you take them to the vet and paid them lots and lots of money to put the dog to sleep. The dog looked at me with a knowing grin that seemed to say "Gocha!"
Other slight problems arose. When, finally, the ground was partially prepared, my wife informed me she was not going to walk around the bed to carry out the trash, so, with some quick thinking, I staked out a walkway that appeared at first to be equally dividing the flower garden.
One of my many failing, I freely admit, is my inability to measure with any accuracy any item or space of any kind. I fail at measuring a three foot measuring stick. Go figure! I have purchased the best measuring tapes, electric eye devices, and still, something goes wrong. So, the walkway became a meandering strip of gravel dividing two unequal portions of a project taking on the cost overruns of a government contract.
So, with the digging done (actually purchased at a premium) I found that our local Master Gardeners were emphasizing carefully screened roses for our area to help us with our xeriscaping. I was a sucker and bought 15 of these disease resistant, pest resistant roses. One of them was a climber that survived three weeks of salt water during the hurricane Katrina. How could I go wrong with roses like this? The rest of the batch were different kinds of roses and different colors.
Next came the weed sheets. These are scientifically designed sheets of something scientifically made that cost a lot and promise to help one control weeds in their garden. Guaranteed to last for years, we tried to put these sheets down everywhere including our bathrooms and bedrooms. When one is preventing weeds, one can never be too careful. The sheets actually went down better in the house than in the back yard. Did I mention that one of the other problems we have in our area is high winds?
Now the sheets were down to prevent weeds which seem to be the only thing that grow during droughts. Next we bermed (which is a highly technical term us gardeners use for piling up mounds of dirt) the beds to reflect an artistic flair no one in our family possessed. And frankly it looked like an effort by an inartistic person to look artistic.
Finally, the beds were ready and the roses went in the ground and immediately began to die. Even the Katrina rose began to show signs it was not long for this world. I was somewhat stressed and even more distressed and more than a little depressed. All this work and expense to create a masterpiece of gardening nirvana and now it was dying before my eyes--well except for the rock walkway which the dog had developed a fondness for pooping on.
I searched the internet to find the solution and it became obvious that I was loving my roses to death. I was guilty of over-watering. I guess the concept of xeriscaping had not fully soaked in to my beady little brain. So, I started loving my roses less, watering less, and now I am the proud owner of a garden only the wealthy possess. Except, for some reason, after they have this kind of garden, they are still wealthy.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Kiosk Flying
Northwestern introduced "complete" kiosk ckeck-in in Memphis Tennessee International airport. It was a fiasco--to put it mildly. I asked for the non-kiosk check-in and the lady present said, "There are none." Yes, there was a person present. I presume that Northwestern believes at a time in the near future, the woman who pushed all the screens will no longer be needed because we will all learn how to check ourselves in.
Bad idea. First, there is a certain percentage of the population (count me as one) whose anxiety level shots through the roof when I see a touch screen method of getting my boarding pass and checking in my luggage. Now this kind lady saw that I had none of the things the kiosk called for so she asked me for a credit card. I gave her my "what do you take me for--a fool" look. I was not about to allow an airline that had gone through bankruptcy to have access to my credit card. Why they might charge a fill-up on one of their 747's. I gave her my library card. She said, "Mr Chancellor, I am glad to know you are a reader, but I need something with a magnetic strip on the back." I happily turned the card over and showed her the magnetic strip. We people in Abilene are right on the cutting edge of technology. It actually worked. And up came my reservation. She walked me through the process of checking in and out came boarding passes, bag slip and it was just like being waited on by a human. Oh, wait, I was being waited on by a human with a very expensive kiosk propping her up as she waited on me.
If Northwestern thinks that I will fly enough and fly Northwestern enough to remember how to check-in on their kiosk, they are crazy. The only thing I will remember is whatever needs to be done can be done with my library card.
I will confess that when I got home, I went to the library to see if 1,000 books had been checked out on my card. I have a really low level of trust when it comes to those magnificent men in their flying machines.
Bad idea. First, there is a certain percentage of the population (count me as one) whose anxiety level shots through the roof when I see a touch screen method of getting my boarding pass and checking in my luggage. Now this kind lady saw that I had none of the things the kiosk called for so she asked me for a credit card. I gave her my "what do you take me for--a fool" look. I was not about to allow an airline that had gone through bankruptcy to have access to my credit card. Why they might charge a fill-up on one of their 747's. I gave her my library card. She said, "Mr Chancellor, I am glad to know you are a reader, but I need something with a magnetic strip on the back." I happily turned the card over and showed her the magnetic strip. We people in Abilene are right on the cutting edge of technology. It actually worked. And up came my reservation. She walked me through the process of checking in and out came boarding passes, bag slip and it was just like being waited on by a human. Oh, wait, I was being waited on by a human with a very expensive kiosk propping her up as she waited on me.
If Northwestern thinks that I will fly enough and fly Northwestern enough to remember how to check-in on their kiosk, they are crazy. The only thing I will remember is whatever needs to be done can be done with my library card.
I will confess that when I got home, I went to the library to see if 1,000 books had been checked out on my card. I have a really low level of trust when it comes to those magnificent men in their flying machines.
Supervise Your Luggage
If you travel anywhere these days and you start from the US, you will hear these words or something like them, "Federal Law requires all passengers to supervise their luggage. The alternative I have heard exchanges "supervise" with "control."
Now I am a good American and if Federal Law requires it, I will do my best to see that it is done. So, Anna and I have spent years trying to supervise/control our luggage. First, we sent our luggage to "luggage obedience school." We both were required to attend because one never knew when we would not fly as a couple. Then we had to take several supervised outings before we could be given a certificate showing our luggage and ourselves had passed obedience school.
Now, I travel with confidence because Anna and I both know how to control/supervise our luggage. I have actually added one little thing that was my own idea. I bring along a piece of chalk and outline where I put my luggage. This is important for controlling one's luggage, because while we are not watching, our luggage may shift or fall over. I will always know by the chalk dust on the outside of the bag. Smart huh! The offending bag is duly reprimanded usually in the bathroom because luggage has feelings too. I don't want to break the spirit of my luggage, I just want to gently discipline it so that we do not get in trouble over unruly bags.
The problem is I have this one duffel bag--black but highlighted in midnight blue, that constantly causes me problems. It is my favorite bag and when we have to travel internationally, it is the first one I reach for. The problem is, it is a little stinker, because it is good when with us, but at the precise moment it leaves our sight, and the airlines take over it is impossible to deal with. It takes off to destinations unknown, wrong planes, wrong cities, wrong countries. It is impossible to control or manage. It always, always ends up at our destination a few days late with the only explanation from the airlines, "the bag was delayed."
Now I know this is harsh, but I have put my favorite bag under the bed in the dark, until I can be promised it will not misbehave out of our presence. On this trip we took a trusted and tried old army duffel bag. No problem! It knows how to behave and has nary a chalk mark upon it.
If we all did our part, and did a more serious job of supervising our luggage, I am sure air travel would not be so expensive, or be so wearisome.
Now I am a good American and if Federal Law requires it, I will do my best to see that it is done. So, Anna and I have spent years trying to supervise/control our luggage. First, we sent our luggage to "luggage obedience school." We both were required to attend because one never knew when we would not fly as a couple. Then we had to take several supervised outings before we could be given a certificate showing our luggage and ourselves had passed obedience school.
Now, I travel with confidence because Anna and I both know how to control/supervise our luggage. I have actually added one little thing that was my own idea. I bring along a piece of chalk and outline where I put my luggage. This is important for controlling one's luggage, because while we are not watching, our luggage may shift or fall over. I will always know by the chalk dust on the outside of the bag. Smart huh! The offending bag is duly reprimanded usually in the bathroom because luggage has feelings too. I don't want to break the spirit of my luggage, I just want to gently discipline it so that we do not get in trouble over unruly bags.
The problem is I have this one duffel bag--black but highlighted in midnight blue, that constantly causes me problems. It is my favorite bag and when we have to travel internationally, it is the first one I reach for. The problem is, it is a little stinker, because it is good when with us, but at the precise moment it leaves our sight, and the airlines take over it is impossible to deal with. It takes off to destinations unknown, wrong planes, wrong cities, wrong countries. It is impossible to control or manage. It always, always ends up at our destination a few days late with the only explanation from the airlines, "the bag was delayed."
Now I know this is harsh, but I have put my favorite bag under the bed in the dark, until I can be promised it will not misbehave out of our presence. On this trip we took a trusted and tried old army duffel bag. No problem! It knows how to behave and has nary a chalk mark upon it.
If we all did our part, and did a more serious job of supervising our luggage, I am sure air travel would not be so expensive, or be so wearisome.
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