Action / Reaction

Have you ever considered whether you are acting or reacting to life. Looking back over my life, I think in my late teens and early 20s, I did a lot of reacting. Didn't bother to check things out or verify the information I received, I just took the information and reacted to it.


Wonder how many people do that today? Do I do that now. Do we attempt to get to the bottom of things? Do we try to understand why things happened the way they do? I know that now I am more questioning whereas when I was younger, I was more accepting. People would tell me things and I would accept what they said rather than check it out and verify what they were telling me was true. In other instances, I drew conclusions without really investigating or examining the circumstances.

Did this rub off on my children. Did I teach them to examine the issues or did I even discuss it with them. As I grow older -- I am 73 now -- I look more carefully at life and the decisions I make. I don't jump to conclusions as much as I used to. I also think and reflect more on what is being said and what is happening around me. I realize that I don't always have to be right or correct, I don't have to challenge other people's actions; I just need to be true to myself and to God.


Early on in life, I attended religious services and tried to convey the image of a Christian because I thought that was what you should do. I was raised in the church and attended on a regular basis because it was insisted upon. My mom died when I was four and there was just my dad and I. My brother was off in the Navy and Korea. My sister was off doing here thing. My dad and I had a good relationship but there was no cuddliness or warm affection. So I looked for love and that warm feeling by developing relationships with girls -- frequently more than one at a time. I felt a need to be loved; however, I confused intimacy with love. I always felt like I needed to be in a relationship.


Sometimes, I would be close and intimate with more than one young lady at a time. I think that had a lot to do with my feeling lonely and looking for love. But because I was young and my hormones were raging. I mistook intimacy and compassion for love.


I remember one long term  relationship I terminated because the young lady was in college and more concerned with college then with me -- or at least so I thought. Did I sit down and talk with her about it? No! I just reacted. Because we were separated by a significant geographical distance and I needed companionship (love?), I started a relationship with a young lady at the college I was attending and terminated the relationship with the young lady that I had been dating and was engaged to for a long time.  I never really talked to either young lady about my actions or emotions at the time. I just reacted to the feeling of being lonely and what I perceived as being strung along.


I've been married for more than 43 years and love my wife very much. I sometimes wonder if I am too affectionate but 'Hey, I can't help it!" I love my wife very much and need to express affection and appreciation for her putting up with my idiosyncrasies. I like to touch her and kiss her on the top of the head. Why? I don't have a clue other than I just enjoy being with her. She likes to have sound like the radio or the television playing while she is reading. I like it quiet. We are probably more different than we are alike but she is my girl. Oh well, se la vie.


Thank you God for giving me more than I deserve.

Life, Love, and God -- Apr 16, 2015 Working Draft Outline

Tod.ay I've made a conscious decision to seriously begin writing a book that has been in my mind for several years. A working draft that will constantly be changing and update is as follows:

Introduction

                Purpose of the book
                Assumptions
                Belief
Life
                Life styles
                                Active
                                Proactive
                                Reactive
                Religious Life
                Christian Life
                Moral Life
Love
                Biblical Definition
                I Corinthians  13
                Real Love
God
                Lexical Definition
                Personal Definition
                Your Definition
                Religion
Conclusion




If you have any comments, questions, or suggestions -- please contact at your convenience.
My e-mail address is bobsiwel@sbcglobal.net
Thank you for reading my blog.

Reflections

It has been awhile since I've made a blog entry. For that matter, it has been awhile since I've done any serious writing. There was a time when writing was one of my passions. Not so much to publish anything but just to get my thoughts down on paper. Now, it is as if I've lost that thrust for living and contributing. Am I feeling sorry for myself? Maybe. This concept or activity of aging is not for the faint of heart. I think about a lot of my friends -- or should I say former friends -- who are no longer among the living. I'm sure -- or at least relatively certain -- that if they had a choice, they would prefer to be among the living. I know that in my case, I prefer being among the living.




There was a time when I feared dying. Not so much anymore. I don't particularly want to die but there are days when I think death would be a welcome relief from the aches and pains of everyday living. Arthritis and its related maladies make it painful to get through a day every now and then! But when I think of my grandchildren and the joy they bring, I realize that I don't really want to die and leave them behind. This is not to say that I want them to die and come with me! HEAVEN forbid. I want tem to have a long, joyous, and happy life.




Some of my best memories are as a kid growing up in central Pennsylvania and being with family and friends. I guess that is why I enjoy the Facebook site "You know your from Carlisle, ..." The memories folks share on this site are so enjoyable. They remind me of a happier time. A care free time. No worries. No cares. As my dad would say, "Boy, you are just as dumb and happy!" The beauty of that quote is just exactly what it says -- I was dumb and happy. Not a care in the world.


Now, I am a tired, relatively lonely, old man. I wish my wife and I, my children and I, others and I would engage in conversation and reflection; however, that doesn't seem to be happening. Why is that?  Is it my fault? Do I not initiate enough conversations? << mother nature called -- I had to take a break to go to the bathroom. Just prior to doing that, I put the recycles in the Recycle bin. It has been on my mind for a couple of days >> I guess I am just rambling and probably should end this. My wife just called and said lunch so I will end this for now. Peace -- Joy -- Happiness.

God's Phone Number

 

Hello God, I called tonight -- To talk a little while

I need a friend who'll listen -- To my anxiety and trial.

You see, I can't quite make it Through a day just on my own...

I need your love to guide me  So I'll never feel alone.

I want to ask you please to keep  My family safe and sound.

Come and fill their lives with confidence    For whatever fate they're bound.

Give me faith, dear God, to face  Each hour throughout the day,

And not to worry over things  I can't change in any way.

I thank you God for being home   And listening to my call,

For giving me such good advice   When I stumble and fall.. !!!!!!!

Your number, God, is the only one   That answers every time.

I never get a busy signal,    Never had to pay a dime.

So thank you, God, for listening   To my troubles and my sorrow.

Good night, God, I love You, too,    And I'll call again tomorrow!

 

P.S. Please bless all my friends and family too.

Sources: H.D. Bolton & Peggy Harris

No One Stands as Tall as a Christian Praying

Dear Lord, I thank you for this day. I thank You for my being able to see and to hear this morning. I'm blessed because You are a forgiving God and an understanding God. You have done so much for me and You keep on blessing me. Forgive me this day for everything I have done, said or thought that was not pleasing to you. I ask now for Your forgiveness.

Please keep me safe from all danger and harm. Help me to start this day with a new attitude and plenty of gratitude. Let me make the best of each day to clear my mind so that I can hear from You.

Let me not whine and whimper over things I have no control over.. Let me continue to see sin through God's eyes and acknowledge it as evil. And when I sin, let me repent, and confess with my mouth my wrongdoing, and receive the forgiveness of God.

And when this world closes in on me, let me remember Jesus' example -- to slip away and find a quiet place to pray. It's the best response when I'm pushed beyond my limits. I know that when I can't pray, You listen to my heart. Continue to use me to do Your will.

Continue to bless me that I may be a blessing to others. Keep me strong that I may help the weak.. Keep me uplifted that I may have words of encouragement for others. I pray for those who are lost and can't find their way. I pray for those who are misjudged and misunderstood. I pray for those who don't know You intimately.  I pray for those who don't believe. But I thank you that I believe.

I believe that God changes people and God changes things. I pray for all my sisters and brothers. For every family member in their households. I pray for peace, love and joy in their homes that they are out of debt and all their needs are met.

I pray that every eye that reads this knows there is no problem, circumstance, or situation greater than God. Every battle is in Your hands for You to fight. I pray that these words be received into the hearts of every eye that sees them and every mouth that confesses them willingly..

This is my prayer.
In Jesus' Name,
Amen.

(source: Peggy Harris)

Grandma's Hands

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands..

When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.

Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK. She raised her head and looked at me and said. 'Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking,' she said in a clear strong voice.

'I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK,' I explained to her.

'Have you ever looked at your hands,' she asked. 'I mean really looked at your hands?'

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making.

Grandma smiled and related this story:

'Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.

'They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.

They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.

'They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special.

They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.

'They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.

They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw.. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

'These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life.

But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of God.

I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of grandma. I know she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God.

I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

(source: another e-mail from Aunt Peggy)

Pastor and his Son

Every Sunday afternoon, after the morning service at the church, the Pastor and his eleven year old son would go out into their town and hand out Gospel Tracts.
This particular Sunday afternoon, as it came time for the Pastor and his son to go to the streets with their tracts, it was very cold outside, as well as pouring rain. The boy bundled up in his warmest and driest clothes and said, 'OK, dad, I'm ready.'

His Pastor dad asked, 'Ready for what?'

'Dad, it's time we gather our tracts together and go out'

Dad responds, 'Son, it's very cold outside and it's pouring rain.'

The boy gives his dad a surprised look, asking, 'But Dad, aren't people still going to Hell, even though it's raining?'

Dad answers, 'Son, I am not going out in this weather.'

Despondently, the boy asks, 'Dad, can I go? Please?'

His father hesitated for a moment then said, 'Son, you can go. Here are the tracts, be careful son..'

'Thanks Dad!'

And with that, he was off and out into the rain. This eleven year old boy walked the streets of the town going door to door and handing everybody he met in the street a Gospel Tract .

After two hours of walking in the rain, he was soaking, bone-chilled wet and down to his VERY LAST TRACT. He stopped on a corner and looked for someone to hand a tract to, but the streets were totally deserted.

Then he turned toward the first home he saw and started up the sidewalk to the front door and rang the door bell. He rang the bell, but nobody answered.

He rang it again and again, but still no one answered. He waited but still no answer. Finally, this eleven year old trooper turned to leave, but something stopped him. Again, he turned to the door and rang the bell and knocked loudly on the door with his fist. He waited, something holding him there on the front porch!

He rang again and this time the door slowly opened. Standing in the doorway was a very sad-looking elderly lady. She softly asked, 'What can I do for you, son?' With radiant eyes and a smile that lit up her world, this little boy said, Ma’m, I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but I just want to tell you that JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU and I came to give you my very last Gospel Tract which will tell you all about JESUS and His great LOVE.'

With that, he handed her his last tract and turned to leave. She called to him as he departed. 'Thank you, son! And God Bless You!'

Well, the following Sunday morning in church Pastor Dad was in the pulpit. As the service began, he asked, 'Does anybody have testimony or want to say anything?'

Slowly, in the back row of the church, an elderly lady stood to her feet. As she began to speak, a look of glorious radiance came from her face, 'No one in this church knows me. I've never been here before. You see, before last Sunday I was not a Christian. My husband passed on some time ago, leaving me totally alone in this world. Last Sunday, being a particularly cold and rainy day, it was even more so in my heart that I came to the end of the line where I no longer had any hope or will to live. So I took a rope and a chair and ascended the stairway into the attic of my home. I fastened the rope securely to a rafter in the roof, then stood on the chair and fastened the other end of the rope around my neck. Standing on that chair, so lonely and broken-hearted I was about to leap off, when suddenly the loud ringing of my doorbell downstairs startled me. I thought, 'I'll wait a minute, and whoever it is will go away.'

I waited and waited, but the ringing doorbell seemed to get louder and more insistent, and then the person ringing also started knocking loudly.

I thought to myself again, 'Who on earth could this be? Nobody ever rings my bell or comes to see me.' I loosened the rope from my neck and started for the front door, all the while the bell rang louder and louder.

When I opened the door and looked I could hardly believe my eyes, for there on my front porch was the most radiant and angelic little boy I had ever seen in my life. His SMILE, oh, I could never describe it to you! The words that came from his mouth caused my heart that had long been dead, TO LEAP TO LIFE as he exclaimed with a cherub-like voice, 'Ma'am, I just came to tell you that JESUS REALLY DOES LOVE YOU .' Then he gave me this Gospel Tract that I now hold in my hand. As the little angel disappeared back out into the cold and rain, I closed my door and read slowly every word of this Gospel Tract. Then I went up to my attic to get my rope and chair. I wouldn't be needing them any more.

You see-- -I am now a Happy Child of the KING. Since the address of your church was on the back of this Gospel Tract, I have come here to personally say THANK YOU to God's little angel who came just in the nick of time and by so doing, spared my soul from an eternity in hell.'

There was not a dry eye in the church. And as shouts of praise and honor to THE KING resounded off the very rafters of the building, Pastor Dad descended from the pulpit to the front pew where the little angel was seated. He took his son in his arms and sobbed uncontrollably. Probably no church has had a more glorious moment, and probably this universe has never seen a Papa that was more filled with love & honor for his son. Except for one.

Blessed are your eyes for reading this message.

(source: Peggy Harris)