My look at Heaven

 

Looking at Heaven

      Many times in life, I have marveled at the blessings I have been given. I write and talk a lot about perception and how sobriety has brought a change in my perception. The appreciation of what I have versus what I want. It seems as I get older, I am coming to realize that what I want, I already have. The important things like God, Family, and Love, not the transitory things like money, possessions, and such.

      I was over to visit my daughters yesterday, and as seems to be the case, whenever I am not looking, it hits me. I am a very lucky man. My girls were in the living room, the oldest on her laptop and the youngest laying on the couch. Both back from a day at school, relaxing, comfortable, safe and at peace. What more could I ever ask for?

      I look and I watch and am just amazed. How did this happen where I have two such wonderful girls? When I look at my girls, I see them as they are today, teenagers growing into fine young women. But I also see them as they were, remembering when they were in diapers, walking with them to their first day of school, and driving them to belly dancing class. I remember, in Colorado, taking Tabea to the circus, and picking Meyra up from her daycare. Special daughter, poppa time.

      Whenever I wonder what heaven must be like, I remember the feeling of holding them in my arms when they were babies and watching them sleep. That feeling of love, warmth and all is right in my world. I remember the feeling I felt, that fatherly pride, as Tabea, my eldest, walked into her prom. She was no longer Poppa's little girl, although in my heart she will always be, she is a young woman. During the course of evening, there was the traditional father and daughter dance. That was a bitter sweet moment, almost a precursor to the father giving the daughter away at her wedding. I know that time will come, this was the just warm up, a glimpse into the future. I am pretty sure that I will be just as proud then and just as heart broken.

      Every Thursday I get the opportunity to visit a little slice of heaven. I get to take my youngest daughter horseback riding. Seeing her smile as she gallops on her horse is almost a direct link between my heart and heaven. I may be a sentimental old fool, but seeing someone I love, enjoying what they are doing, oblivious to the world around them, care free for that instant in time, is just that, sentimental and precious. A respite in time, a glimpse into what I feel is God's love for all his children.

      Big beautiful horses and God's kids playing under the sun, enjoying the, and living in, the moment. When I wish I could freeze time this is what I mean. But this is what memories are for. God's little Polaroid moment forever lock in my memory of how good life can be and what heaven must surely be like.

more on Heaven, God and belief to follow.. thanks.

So Sweet the Sorrow

  So Sweet the Sorrow

A matter of perception.

      The sun rising over the trees, glistening off our spit shined boots. The dewy grass forming a light low fog. The peace and serenity of the cemetery enfolds us. We stand on a slight rise, overlooking the freshly dug grave as the widow is driven in, followed by the slow moving hearse. The funeral director gingerly guides the elderly lady dressed in mourning black, to the folding chair that awaits. The men by the rear of the hearse, dressed in formal uniforms wait, as one opens the rear door, and in unison, they step. Offloading the flag draped coffin, with precision and care, they turn and march it to the holding stand that awaits. The wife watches in silence as the men march it into place. The sun shining on a cloudless morning as I hear the words, ready, aim, fire, and with a crack in unison the rifles fire their first volley. The lady jerks,startled by the load sound echoing in the empty cemetery. Crack, the second volley, crack, the third, followed by the soulful sound of the bugler as he starts to render Taps. The sound too much for her, her composure breaks and I hear the wails and sobs of pent up emotions flow out. A loved one saying goodbye.  The men fold the flag, a sea of blue, with only white stars showing, folded into its triangle shape, handed to the officer in charge.  He turns, presenting it to the widow, salutes, and I hear the words “On behalf of the President of the United States, the United States Army and a grateful nation......as we march quietly off to the side, the rendering of honors to a fallen comrade, complete.
      Before she left that morning, she thanked us for the service and for being there. Saying how much it would have meant to her husband and how much it meant to her the he was remembered for his service.
 I like to write about sobriety and the change in perception it has brought about. I like to write about the happy and good times but there are times when I look at the sweet sorrowful times and realize  how important they are to me.  My God has given me many wonderful times, and as equally times filled with tears and sorrow.
      In the 22 plus years I served in the Army I have had the opportunity and privilege of working with many fine fine individuals and of doing some things that made me appreciate the life I was leading. From being a private on guard or doing recons on the DMZ to waiting on the flight line to deploy. From training troops as a Drill Sergeant to helping soldiers as their First Sergeant, I even brokered a marriage, sort of. I have deployed to various regions and been around the world, all of which made me proud to serve and grateful to my God for seeing and remembering those people and experiences. Of all those experiences the one that holds me in gratitude the most was being part of funeral details.  Either as the NCO of the rifle squad, or as a member or in the flag detail, it always made me feel a part of a very large family.  It was always gratifying to me, to be able to help render honors to a fallen brother in arms and to help the family say good bye to their loved one.
      Funerals are never a “fun” thing to do. I have never left one feeling happy or glad. But I am grateful to my God for letting me be a part of them, especially military funerals.  The military funeral  ceremony itself, with its grace and precision and its overall simplistic beauty has always held me in awe.
      Saying goodbye is hard and emotional. I am grateful that with a military funeral, the deceased veteran and family, have a military presence recognizing the contributions and sacrifices that their loved one made for this country. That their loved one, be it father ,mother, sister, brother, whatever, was also a member of the military family and we recognize, acknowledge and render honor unto our fallen comrade.
      Love, hate, happy, sad, joyful or sorrowful, they are emotions that today I am grateful to my God for letting me experience. I cannot appreciate one without the other. So it is a sweet sorrow, the sense of missing and lost combined with the sense of gratitude and joy knowing they rest in the love of their family, and in my God's peaceful presence.
      As with Life, always a process of adjusting my perception from what I see through my eyes to what I see through my eyes and heart. Of watching the world change not through some big miracle, but through the action taken on a kind thought. His gift to me.      

Freedom to Do

The Freedom of Freedom

     The funny thing about sobriety is that I am free to do whatever I want. Sobriety offers me the ultimate freedom, that being of choice. I am free to do anything as long as I am willing to pay the price for my actions or inaction’s. I can stay sober or I can get drunk, (not a real choice but you see what I mean) to live a good life or be a liar, a cheat and a thief. To believe as I choose to believe. Do do it all one way or another or somewhere in between. When I think of it, it really is kind of awesome, total freedom, and a little frightening also.

     

     So why freedom? Well I am getting close, as in the next year or year and a half of having to make some major life changes. The type of changes where a year is not much time. The problem I am faced with is: I do not know what I want. I have been praying and asking for guidance from Poppa upstairs, and from friends, but really, I can do whatever I want to do. That is the root of the problem. What do I want?

 

      In another two years the garrison where I work in Germany will be closed. I will be 53 yrs old. The prospect of moving somewhere in Germany just to work is slim. My daughters will both be getting ready to or will be out of their mother's house by then and most likely in college. I enjoy Germany but do not have any close ties, excepting my daughters. For me financially, I will be doubly retired, with two plus checks coming in. Child support will be mostly over. (I have daughters, so I know will always be paying, gladly paying them) But the idea of living in Germany, while my daughters are out and about living their lives, does not make much sense to me. They are or will have reached the age of spreading their wings and being fine young women, so the active, poppa, father role time will be moving to the advice and love stage of fatherhood.

     That being the crux of the dilemma. I will only be 53, far to young to pick out a rocker and a porch. Where do I want to go and what do I want to do? I ask my Father, where I would be of most use? Where can I be of help? I have the feeling he is enjoying my struggle. For this is a by-product of sobriety, good living, and doing the right thing. This freedom of choice. This, I can do what I want.

     My God knows I am struggling, and I am sure in the right time (His, not mine) he will let me know. I know I want to put down some roots. It seems every ten or so years of my life I have been moving, or facing a life change so I know I would like to have a base of operations I can call home. I know I will be visiting Germany a couple times a year. I miss my daughters daily now even when I can see or talk to them daily. I hate to think about not being there, but I know it is the right thing. 

more to follow, this is the writing to clear the mind sort of thing.

finish to Rite of Passage.

That really is the how and why of it. It seems Life just keeps putting in little pop quizzes and how I answer them is where I am at on its bar graph. The odd thing about it all is that I may not know about the quiz at the time of it, nor will I know if I answered correctly till some time down the road.

It is like setting up a long line of dominoes, and I never know if they are going to fall true until I put them in motion. As the chain falls, it suddenly stops, one domino is out of place, so I have to take the time to put it in place and then let the chain begin again.

That is how my Life is. The out of place domino is a quiz question I answered incorrectly, or a passage I should have turned right on but turned left instead. So I have to go back and redo it, hopefully learning from it, so that the rest of the dominoes will fall in order or in other words, my life will run smoothly.

As with Life, I seem to learn more from my mistakes than from the things I do correctly the first time. I am grateful to my God for allowing me this perception. I seem to have made many mistakes in my past and I am bound to make more in the future, but in knowing that I am not doing it on purpose, or with intent, allows me to continue to live an open life, one lacking in the fear to take a risk and see. Having this faith in my God gives me the opportunity to expand my life and thinking. To grow in life as I think is His desire for all His children.

As a father, I want my children to experience Life. I know sometimes there will be scraped knees and hurt feelings. That being the price of living, growing and loving. Hopefully I am there to sooth the pain and help them make sense of it, just as He does with me.

Funny how being a father crossed one of those milestones without my knowledge of it. That line that Life must have thought my capable of living, and the God of my understanding knew I was ready accept. 

As always thoughts and comments are welcomed..  

Starting new, enjoy...

OK well the first book is finally out and can be found on amazon... either in trade paperback or in eBook. i can say its done because i feel like writing again.  Thing i noticed was when i was working on that, did not want to read (bummer) or to write anything new.  So all that being said, new material will follow in the coming weeks, months. As always suggestions and comments are appreciated.

Sorry about the delay in posts.

I am sorry about the delay in posts. More to be coming soon, and on a more regular basis.  Had some of those mental, emotional situations to go through, part of maturing and meandering into middle age.  Some rough like the passing of my mother, and some strange, like deciding to put my first book into print on ebook formats. Life just never seems to stop happening, so sometimes I just step back and make sure its a forrest and not a tree.  More to follow.

A Quick Note

Hello All, this is just a quick note. If you have or are reading my blog, thank you. I enjoy writting and this is a good outlet for me.  I am currently working on my second book, and trying to get my first into publication, so you will be seeing alot more posts from me. If you have any suggect ideas to write about, comments or questions, feel free to enter them or to contact me at jacksonl1961@gmail.com  Am always open to suggestions and feedback.  It helps me and gives me idea's to use in my writting.. Thank You and I hope you enjoy and hope maybe my blog is being of some use. Larry. 

Rite Of Passage

Rite Of Passage

        I was inventorying my life this last month, with the passing of my mother, and saw the different passing’s of time.  Looking it over, there seems to be rites of passage into different age groups or maturity levels. Funny as to how, as I have gotten older I can see these lines drawn on the calendar of life. These lines have very little to do with age but more to do with the level of maturity that Life seems to judge me ready for.

        When I was younger, it seemed like they were all little type things.  Like the first time I walk to school by myself.  The first time I was allowed to ride my bike alone.  The first time I was asked to go to the store to pick something up for my parents.  These little pebbles of stone upon which a foundation of trust was build between me and my parents. Sort of like Life was judging me worthy as I grew. Time kept rolling on and the level or bar of who I was to be, seemed to get raised, whether I wanted or not.

        The raising of the bar was not based on accomplishing a task but more on the way I handled a situation. When I was 13, I started to work for my Dad out at the campgrounds in the summer.  Seemed as I got older I discovered I liked having money in my pocket.  It was the typical mowing grass, brushing the camp sites, minding and stocking the store, and on occasions cleaning the fish the campers, tourists caught. Cleaning fish can be a disgusting job in the summer heat of Minnesota, with the flies and mosquitoes buzzing around.  But, every day I would be out there, doing what I was supposed to do, and earning money for my savings account. Being a father now, I can respect the Life lessons that this taught me and I can see now, how it was crossing the line from carefree summer time into maturing growing into Life.  The bar of responsibility rising as I grew.

        Now not all of the passages came about from something good.  Sometimes the bar rose as a result of my stupidity.  When I was 15 on Halloween, a buddy of mine and I kind of stole some beer from the local grocery store.  I say kind of, because we were obviously not of age to buy it, and I did leave the money for it at the register. But in truth I guess we did steal it.  We were not out to cause trouble, we just climbed  up on the schools flat roof, drank the beer, smoked some cigarettes and watched the young kids trick and treating on Halloween.  Well, on the walk back home, we were taking the alley way, and the local policeman, checked on us to make sure we weren’t up to no-good, smelled beer on our breath.  That earned me a ride home in the cop car and my buddy a ride to the station to wait for his dad.  Being the youngest I was not the first of my family to be brought home in a cop car.  Actually you could say I was holding up the tradition of my brothers and sister in doing so.

        My Dad was not happy, not happy at all. When the whole story came out, and I actually was honest about it, it was the first and only time my Dad ever hit me.   Being a father, I can understand, and even at that time, thought it was justified. It was just the consequences of my own stupidity. The next morning my Dad carted me over to the grocery store, so I could talk to and apologize to the owner, which I did, and that led to another story for a another time. But the dynamics between my parents and I, and for that matter my brothers, sister and I had changed.  The bar had raised, and Life no longer saw me as a boy but as a young man.  My parents and siblings saw me as growing up.  Yes I had done something stupid, but it was in the handling of it, and in the standing up and taking responsibility for it, that Life raised its expectations of me.  While my Dad was angry for the stupidity part, I think also he had some pride in knowing he had taught his son how to handle the situations that arise out of stupidity.