Life by the Numbers

     Seems like numbers chart our worth, our happiness, our achievement all our lives.  When you are born everybody wants to know your length, your weight, your APGAR (Google it).  Then your place among your toddling peers is measured in the number of the month in which you sit up, walk, crawl, and speak or the number assigned to your disposable diaper size.  You enter school and your very worth as a human being is constantly quantified in your percentiles and GPA.  You seek some escape in sports and you are hounded by your earned run average, your runs batted in, your points, turnovers, and assists per game, your yards per carry, completion percentage, your handicap, your reps and sets, and other studiously calculated and meticulously maintained testaments to what you have and haven't done on the fields and courts of athletic endeavor.  You grow older and get married, get a job, and start watching mortgage rate numbers, IRA accumulation numbers, quarterly reports on your production versus quota.  As time goes by, your weight, blood pressure, and bad cholesterol numbers rise while your hair count, testosterone, and good cholesterol numbers plummet. 

     Recent visits to my own doctor reveal that many of my numbers are not what they should be.  I weigh too much, I exercise too little, my good cholesterol is dropping, my blood sugar is rising.  To hear my doc tell it, I may not finish this blog.  Funny though, if I call tomorrow for an appointment because I am sick, he is apparently quite certain I will live at least 6 months, as this is the soonest he will see me.  But, I digress.

     So, I have come to a decision.  I'm just not going to allow my life to be governed by such numbers as those enumerated above.  I would rather focus on the numbers that pertain to the quality of my life than to worry about those that ostensibly may predict the quantity.  Such numbers as these:

1 :  The number of women to whom I have been, am now, and will for this lifetime be married.

33:  The number of years to date that I have shared the joys of marriage with this one woman.

3:  The number of children we have raised to be wonderful, responsible, faithful adults.

4:  The number of grandchildren who call me, or will call me Papa (3 and 1 on the way!).

21:  The number of years I have known the joy of pastoring the same congregation of believers.

52:  The number of years thus far granted me to enjoy the rich blessings God gives me day by day.

0:  The additional number of years, days, hours, or minutes guaranteed to me, even if I am careful to maintain all those numbers my doctor fusses about.

350:  The approximate number of calories in 5 Double-Stuff Oreo cookies and worth every bit of all 350.

     Now remember, this is MY blog and these are my decisions.  I'm not asking you, dear reader, to disregard all those other numbers entirely . . . you know the ones that measure your bank account and various blood components.  Neither do I intend to ignore them totally.  I should consider precious the body and health God has given me and be a properly concerned steward of a reasonable level of health for my age.  I should be certain that I am a wise manager of the material resources God entrusts to me as well.  But, I am also convinced that many persons are consumed with living long, regardless of whether they live well.  The gyms and whole foods markets are full of folk with low body fat numbers and high numbers of ex-spouses and wayward children.  I have decided that the quality of my life is paramount and can't be, nor will it be measured, by the percentages of various constituents of my blood or the ever fluctuating state of my annuity. 

     Now, pass me an Oreo . . . or 5.

Live well and prosper,
Dr. Mike

A Tribute to My Lovely Wife on the Occasion of Our 33rd Anniversary

     Several years ago, I was moved one day to write some thoughts to my wife.  She has granted me permission to reproduce them here as a tribute to her on this the 33rd anniversary of our wedding, October 22, 1977.  Some of the references would be made clearer with some explanation, but I have chosen to forego such details because I think the meaning emerges without benefit of such particulars.  I love Sandra Wynn Duggins Wyndham with all of my heart and I am immensely proud of the woman she is.

"Dearest Wynn,

     I know this looks terribly formal, typed rather than in my hand, but fear not!  You know how I have become fond of writing everything on the computer.

     This morning I saw part of the "Little House on the Prairie" episode where Carolyn gets the severe infection from a tiny cut on her leg (remember, the family is away from home and she nearly dies alone before deciding to lance the wound with a hot knife . . .).  Near the end, Charles is praying at Carolyn's bedside when she starts to stir and slips her hand over his.  The way he looks at her hand is so perfect for the moment.  Doc Baker says that Carolyn is such a courageous woman for taking the painful, drastic action she took to save her own life.  Through the course of that show's history Charles and Carolyn acknowledged their love for one another many times, in many circumstances, revolving around various aspects of their shared experience.  When I saw this scene, I started thinking about your courage . . . one of the many reasons I love you so much.

     It took courage for you to say yes when I asked you to be my wife.  Some might say it was starry-eyed immaturity that prompted you to agree but you were never starry-eyed, nor immature.  You knew the risks of marrying a young man with seemingly few prospects.  You left great security to begin this adventure with me.  How courageous you were when you consented to bear our children!  You were so young but you were well aware of the level of commitment required of a parent.

    When Russell was born with his life-threatening heart defects, your courage was revealed under circumstances faced by only a few.  Only 23 years old, you bore the weight of walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death with the flesh of your flesh.  If you had been less strong, I don't know what Chris, Russell, and I would have done.  You heard things no mother ever wants to hear and watched your child endure things from which you would have given your life to spare him.  I'm sure it never occurred to you that walking this walk was courageous; you did what you did, the way you did, because you are who you are.

    You didn't marry a "preacher" and you couldn't have known how much courage it would take to be a minister's wife when I answered that call.  You have had to lug three kids and lots of stuff to a second home in the middle of nowhere every single week.  You have had to give up your husband's help for all the years he went to school after work rather than coming home to do his share with baths and homework.  You have agonized through decisions that were, to a frightening degree, out of our hands and have moved, and adjusted, and lived with whatever those decisions brought your way.  You even moved to a place far away from every one and everything you had ever known, a place you had never seen until you walked across the threshhold of that too-small seminary apartment (leaving behind our first beautiful, large, new from the ground up home, to do so . . .).

     You have had the courage to take stock of your life and change it.  You committed to the arduous struggle to return to school and get your degrees while raising a family and you had the courage to settle for no less than unmitigated excellence as a student and as a Mom and wife.  Along the way, you summoned all the courage life has forged in you as you constantly shattered every comfort zone you had ever known.  You had the courage to start a career climb in your chosen profession at the bottom rung and to reach for, and achieve, goals that must have seemed remote when you first dared to imagine them.

     I love you for so many reasons.  Your courage is not the least of them.  We joke about the toll life is taking on our faces and hair color, but when I see your face and stroke your hair, I cherish every moment of experience, and every act of courage, that has etched each gentle line and refined each strand.  You are a remarkable woman and I am more proud of you than my limits will allow me to express.

With All My Heart,
       Michael"

Happy Anniversary, Sweetheart.  I love you.


I wish for all of you who may read this, the blessing of such joy!

"The Doc"

I Wax Poetic

A bit of respite, a time of rest,
A time to be quite, a time to be blessed,
A time to rekindle, a chance to reclaim.
Cell phones off, e-mails unread,
Appointments forsaken, late to bed,
Vacation, vacation, vacation is thy name.

I think that I shall never see,
A poem as lovely as the sea.
Forgive me Joyce Kilmer, I could not resist,
Your words were so perfect to convey the gist.
What you saw in trees, and I love them too,
Is equally true of earth's blanket of blue . . .
Ah, turquoise as jewels and green as a pea.

Creation . . . brings beauty and order into swirling chaos.
Re-creation . . .  peace creeps in and settles down.
Vacation, God's gift of sabbath rest, is thy name.

Ah, vacation.

Dr. Mike
Tanned, rested, and thankful.

Down Time

The Doc is out for a couple of weeks . . . more when I return to normal life!

Adios,
Dr. Mike

One Thing

One of the movies that I find easy to fall into watching repeatedly is "City Slickers", with Billy Crystal and Jack Palance among others.  If you are also a fan of the movie you will recall well the scene in which the grizzled trail boss "Curly", portrayed dead on by Palance, confronts the middle-aged yuppie, Mitch, played by Crystal, about his struggle with mid-life existential angst.  Palance snarls his disdain for self-indulgent tourists like Mitch who annually come to participate in an authentic cattle drive in an attempt to "find themselves".  Curly volunteers a bit of wisdom to Mitch about the "secret of life".  Holding up one crooked, weatherbeaten finger, he says the secret is: "One Thing".  Amazed that Curly could reduce his complex pursuit of happiness and fulfillment to just "one thing", Mitch incredulously asks, "And what is that one thing?"  Curly's answer:  "That's what you have to figure out."

Now, I don't rely too heavily on movies as a source of spiritual wisdom but sometimes, yes sometimes, a pearl such as this one reflects truth found in scripture.  In various places in God's word we find reference to this exact phrase - "ONE THING"- expressing some key to the fulfillment and eternal wellbeing of persons.  Consider these:

- Luke's gospel (10:38-42) records the story of two women who sought to please the Lord as he visited with them in their home.  Martha scurried about busily preparing a meal for him while her sister, Mary, sat quietly at Jesus' feet hearing him speak of the kingdom of God.  Becoming irritated that she was so put upon, Martha complained to Jesus that it might be nice if her lazy sister would get up and help her in the kitchen.  "Martha," Jesus responded, "Mary has chosen the best thing - the ONE THING truly needed - spending time with me.  I won't deny her that."  Sometimes we burn ourselves out trying to do many things to serve the Lord when the ONE THING most needed is simply time at His feet, time in His presence, time adoring Him, learning from and of Him.

- Mark's narrative (10: 17-23) includes an account of the interaction between Jesus and a wealthy man who wants to know for sure what is required to have eternal life.  He affirms to Jesus that he has done all he knows he should do, being fastidiously obedient to the commands of God as he understands them.  Jesus commends him for this but says to him, "ONE THING is all you lack, go, sell your possessions and sacrifice your self interest to follow me."  Considering this demand, the man departs chagrined . . . he is unwilling to do that one thing that separates him from discipleship.  His goods are too many, his wealth too great to forsake.  This may be the ONE THING for you or for me, being willing to give up some thing that claims our devotion to such a degree as to render us unable to serve the Lord without reservation.

-  Finally, Paul speaks of ONE THING he does to help him pursue his ultimate interest of knowing Christ fully and serving him completely.  In his letter to the church at Philippi, in the third chapter, Paul says that he is passionately devoted to knowing Christ even if he must suffer to gain such intimate, unmitigated communion with Christ.  Assessing where he stands relative to this pursuit, Paul humbly admits, "I know I haven't yet attained the state I desire" and goes on to add in verse 13: "this ONE THING I do . . . I forget my past and focus on forging ahead toward God's calling for my life!"   The one thing required for some of us to find peace with God and ourselves may be putting some aspect of our pasts behind us to be free to find God's good will for us today and in our futures.

The bottom line is this: Curly's advice was consistent with scripture in each of these cases.  Those whose experiences are detailed in the passages noted, all found that the answer to their deepest needs was encapsulated in discovering and pursuing ONE THING.  For each, the thing to be found and followed was somewhat different but each was centered on singleminded, wholehearted, devotion to the will of God, not deterred or diluted by busy-ness, material things, or paralyzing memories of a scarred past. 

May God help each of us to have a clear vision of, and a willingness to forsake or pursue, any ONE THING that may be needed for us to know and do God's perfect will for our lives.  Pray for the ol' Doc in that regard and I will pray for you.

Peace my friends,
Dr. Mike

Home is where the bat is

One thing nevers changes and that is that things are always changing.  Yesterday's fashions are today's yard sale atrocities.  Remember when the Bay City Rollers were cool?  Nobody else does either.  There is a development of condos and apartments across the street from our church where not so long ago sage grass grew and wildlife roamed.  Things change.  Sometimes quickly and radically, sometimes slowly, inexorably,  things always change. 

Two days ago, I was sweeping the front porch when I heard a faint scratching noise just above and slightly behind me.  Intrigued, I sought the source.  In minutes, I found it.  Clinging to the brick wall behind a shutter framing our large picture window - we have "real" shutters that swing on a hinge to cover the window if desired or needed - was a small gray bat.  Peeking behind the shutter, I watched him as he adjusted himself, tucking in his wings and getting his grip for his day of rest.  I suppose if he were able to make such judgements, he might prefer to live in a more pristine environment.  All things being ideal for bats, he would dart above and through vast forests and meadows, snatching unsuspecting mosquitoes by night.  Pausing to occasionally munch a moist piece of fruit dangling from a lush tree in his benighted naturehood, he would return before light to a suitably damp cave to sleep, perchance to dream a batdream.  But alas, such places are harder to find  for the 21st century bat, the human thing being as unbiquitous as it is.  So, this particular bat is living in the coolest, darkest, most secure place he can find in his suburban lair . . . the gap behind a shutter at stately Wyndham Manor.  He has found a way to be what his Creator made him to be in his rapidly changing world.  He has adapted.  His Creator gave him that capacity.

We are endowed with that God-given capacity as well.  You and I can, and often must, change.  Our bodies change, our context for living changes, our relationships change.  Change is constant.  It is sometimes good, sometimes not so good, but it is.  To some degree our happiness or lack of it in this world has to do with how we adjust to changing times and circumstances in our lives.  I'm still learning this.  The writer of the biblical book of Ecclesiastes observed that there is a time for everything and that every thing, each thing in its time, is made to be beautiful by our Creator.  We may know the beauty of life's ever changing panorama as we adapt with the shifting scenes. 

God grant that I may change as all things in His creation change, that I may adapt as all of His creatures adapt, and that by His grace I may always find the way to live as He created me, and recreates me, to live.

Dr. Mike

Note:  Throughout the above, I have spoken of this bat as "he" and "him".  I didn't inspect him closely enough to determine his gender precisely.  This is an assumption I have made based on his distinctly masculine facial features, specifically a strong jutting jaw and a prominent brow.  Thanks, "DrM".

Simple Pleasures

We live in an age of gadgets, widgets, gizmos, and I-Stuff like pads & pods.  We derive both function and pleasure from things that are not at all simple . . . things so intricately planned, engineered, and wrought as to defy even the imaginations of our ancestors.  Things that calculate, replicate, facilitate, and stimulate are now the fabric of our lives.  Sorry Cotton.

When I was a kid, my parents urged me to entertain myself on roadtrips by enjoying the scenery.  My precious mother would say stuff like, "Oooh look, the world's deepest artesian well!" or "Wouldn't it be great if we ever actually did See Rock City".  Personally, I always just sat there and wondered what Burma had to do with shaving.  As I write this, I realize that my younger friends don't even know what I'm talking about.  Trust me, the point is that I didn't have a DVD or MP3 player at my disposal on those treks to grandma's.  Oh, and while I'm at it, that's not Bieber hair, it's Beatle hair.  Look it up.

Yep, the world is a different place serving up all sorts of fancy ways to while away the time.  Modern folk demand a whole lot of bells and whistles to bring them satisfaction and most of it might be a strain on the ol' pocketbook in these tough economic times.  So, in the interest of providing a public service for those who may have had to pawn their laptops and put their I-Stuff on E-Bay, I offer the following list of simple pleasures, stuff that won't cost you much, if anything, and is sure to please:

- Sit in the grass.  My grandkids love it and you will too.

- Drink sweet tea.  I'm not talking about that stuff restaurants call sweet tea, I'm talking about that kind my Mama down in Alabama makes, the kind you can pour on pancakes if the mood strikes you.

- Hold somebody's hand, whether it's somebody you're courting or comforting makes little difference.

- Smell a freshly washed and lotioned up baby.  If you don't have a baby to sniff, try puppy breath.  Hey, my tastes are eclectic.

- Eat something bad for you.  Anything that tastes good qualifies.

- If you're my age, just sit around and remember stuff.  You will find great pleasure in knowing you haven't forgotten everything.  That is, unless you HAVE forgotten everything.  In that case, forget this one.

- Find some movie on TV that is so old that Ted Turner hasn't colorized it.  Watch it. If it's that old, chances are it's OK.  If it's got somebody named ""Hoot" or "Hopalong" in it, all the better.

- Scratch a dog's ear.  I suppose it might work with cats.  Probably not.

Try something here, or think up your own stuff.  Share yours with me if you are so inclined.  I purposely left off some just so I could see if you get happy over some of the same stuff I do. 

Thank me when you see me.  I'll be the guy drinking sweet tea, sitting on the grass in the park.  The one holding my wife's hand and scratching my dog's ear.  Oh, and grinnin' like a mule eatin' briers.

Dr. Mike

Such a woman deserves recognition

     I looked across the room and was struck by her peaceful face.  Seeing her there, in that chair in the corner of a room lit only by the light streaming in through a window near her, it was easy to imagine that she was just as she was in the years when I knew her best.  Then, I saw her almost every day, spent time with her, laughed with her, cried with her, and always left her better for having been with her.  Now, in this moment as I studied her, she was as she was then, quiet, gentle, more at peace with herself and her life than perhaps any person I have ever known.  I wish I could tell her name but she can't give me permission to do so because she is really not there any more.  She is still here but not truly because she is no longer that person I knew.
     She has gracefully descended into the abyss of her disease.  Alzheimers is a sad thing indeed, robbing a sufferer of self before life.  She is waging a quiet battle, on her own terms.  I found it somehow triumphant to note that she was still a vision of grace, of seasoned beauty.  Her hair was soft and well groomed, her clothes classic, a testament to her lifelong sense of Southern propriety and understated style.
     I made my way across the room to her, wishing I did not feel so strongly compelled to do so.  Knowing that she no longer knows me causes me more pain than I can say.  But this moment wasn't about my reticence.  It was about her deserving to be honored, to be dignified by my recognition of her.  Taking her lovely hand in mine and gazing into her searching eyes, I was moved when she said, "I believe you are someone I have always loved".  This sort of vestigial grace is God's gift to her even in this shadowy hour of her journey to Him.  I managed to say, "Yes, and I have always loved, and still love you."  Her smile in response gratified and refreshed my soul. 
     Not long ago, I read in the scripture of Paul thanking the Corinthians for their willingness to help and support others.  In that passage he refers to a visit by several friends saying, "By their coming they refreshed my soul."  Paul says such persons, such "refreshers", deserve recognition.*  My dear friend isn't who she once was, but she is who she most essentially always was . . . a refresher of souls.  She deserves to be recognized.

"May God grant me the grace to refresh the souls of others.  Amen"

Dr. Mike

*I Corinthians 16: 17-18, NIV

Welcome to the Emporium

     An emporium is a marketplace for a variety of consumables.  Over time I hope to offer some thoughts you might feel worthy of your consumption.  I do so advisedly, realizing that I know very little about very much.  I would be so bold as to submit that there are a few reasons to justify my daring to imagine that I may have something of value to offer to those who will stumble upon this spot and read what I write.  Would you bear with me as I fill you in on who I am and what I might bring to this endeavor?

     I am Michael A. Wyndham, Ph.D., born in 1958 in Mobile, Alabama, to a sound, loving, lower-middle class family with solid values, vibrant Christian faith, and a warmly demonstrated love for me from my first breath.  My younger brother and sister and I were surrounded by men and women who taught me to love God and country, to be a good steward of my endowments, and to take seriously my God-given responsibility to love my neighbor as I loved myself.  From their examples and their words, my parents, grandparents and others in my family circle taught me to work hard and to do all I found to do as well as I was able by my own diligence and God's grace.  As wonderful as my family was and is, it was not and is not, without some frailties and weaknesses as is to be expected among the families of mortals.  All in all, however, the context of my life has been nurturing and conducive to my being all God made me to be.  I am without excuse for the degree to which I have fallen short of the ideals that my family has embraced and embodied.  The experiences of an increasingly long life in such a context, spanning as they do some very important periods of historical, societal, institutional, and cultural evolution must have taught me something.

     In addition, I have been married to one woman in my life.  On October 22, 1977,  I pledged to love, honor, and cherish my precious wife and I intend to do just that until death parts us.  We have raised three children to adulthood and are now being blessed with grandchildren - three, so far, with a fourth to arrive soon.  Over these three-plus decades we have met life together, facing the challenges involved with parenting, dealing with our own emerging selves and the two people we are always in the process of becoming, and generally sharing the griefs, pains, and joys of the marital journey.  Maybe, just maybe, I have gained some insight into marriage and parenting that would be of some value to some sojourner in those most meaningful pursuits.

     I acknowledge with due humility that I have also been priviliged in the course of my life to be exposed to an appreciable degree of formal education at the feet of fine men and women possessed of great knowledge in many areas of academia.  I ultimately earned the Doctor of Philosophy degree in 1996 in a specialized sub-area of Sociology concerned with institutional religion.  I say all this simply to assert that perhaps I have gleaned something in all this study that might find expression in my musings.

     Finally, and most revealing about who Dr. Mike essentially is, I am a sinner saved by the grace of God who is grateful for every expression of the great love and mercy that has been lavished on me.  I am an ordained minister, a pastor since 1985, and a sometimes professor at a well-known theological seminary.  My faith guides and shapes my thoughts and perceptions of life and everything I may offer here will, at least in part and imperfectly, reflect my journey of faith as a disciple of Jesus Christ.

     I have been urged to do this by several folk who love me and think more of me than is justified in reality.  I look forward to visiting you on this page and hope you might find something worth your while here.  The Emporium is now open, come inside and browse, holler if I can help!

Dr. Mike