Things My Father Taught Me

My brother, Alfred, my step-son, Lando, Wilbert Spain, SR, and Me

  It's amazing how a simple thought can spur an avalanche of of memories long forgotten. This very thing occurred while I was making breakfast this morning.  I began to reminisce about when I used to take my morning walks through the neighborhood when I lived in Augusta, Georgia a few years ago. There was a portion of my trek which had a rather steep hill.  As one approaches the hill it can seem somewhat intimidating. On some mornings I easily traversed the paved incline; however, this particular morning the climb appeared to have an increased gravitational pull on my body.  As I gird up my loins I tenderly recalled a time when I was very young and I was walking with my father on Fort Bragg, North Carolina. We were scaling a grassy hill, (where we were going, I do not remember), and my father noticed that I was having difficulty keeping up with both his stride and maneuvering the hill. "Boy, you have to walk heel-toe, heel toe", he said in his familiar gruff voice.  I looked at his method of walking and adjusted my own accordingly. The climb actually did become much easier for me.
 

  Occasionally I have spoken about certain situations in regards to growing up with my father in past blogs.  For many years my most prevalent memories were of his boozing, disappearing for days on pay day only to return home drunk and penniless, and the frequent moves my siblings and I were forced to endure because we assumed he had neglected to pay the rent, utilities, or both. (It is only in my own adult years that I neglected to see that he was also faced with the choice of paying the electric bill or feeding his seven motherless children).  I know in my heart that negative situations which we all have endured have served their purpose in creating the foundation of our character. My father's actions, (or inaction), forced changes in our lives that caused us to be strong as children. It forced my oldest brother, Wilbert JR to seek out an early-age enlistment into the Army so as not to become another mouth to feed at the dinner table. It caused my brother, Alfred, to develop the skill of being multi-faceted because he was forced to go to college while working part-time to provide food for us younger siblings when my father was not able. Today he is a supervisor for the Department of Human Services and he rescues at risk children on a daily basis.  My oldest sister, Joyce, was forced to forfeit much of her childhood and become our surrogate mother. What a burden that must have been for her but today she is one of the most tenacious and resourceful women I know.  
 I recall how the twins and I would sit together in the living room and vow to "never let our kids go without Christmas or a telephone in the home or food, electricity, or shelter". We were mere children but we were forced to plan a life of responsibility because of what we, ourselves, had experienced.  And lastly, I know I will never be able to comprehend the loss of my mother as my youngest sister, Cynthia had to endure. It is so sad to know that all my mother is to her is an old photograph and memories passed down by her older siblings. I believe that even today she strives to succeed in order to please her mother.

  There is no situation on this earth that God does not have a hand in; for He is not only the author of all that is good and pleasing and joyous in our life, but He is also involved in the evil and pain and sadness we each experience.   "Let every soul be subject to the higher powers. For there is no power but from God: the powers that are, are ordained by God". Romans 13:1

  My father taught me both what to do and what not to do. In neglecting some of his duties he taught me to be diligent in providing for my family. In his inability to be openly affectionate towards his children he taught me to love my own with an unwavering love. His domestic episodes with my mother taught me and my brothers that we are to love our women hard. Before my father passed away in 1998 from cancer I was able to hug him and tell him that he truly was a great father and that I will always respect him. 

  Message: It's time out for us to still be crying over our past disappointments in life; but rather, it it high time that we  recognize how the "fires" which we were made to endure have made us stronger, wiser, and so much better.
 Who's to say what is good and what is bad; what is right and what is wrong? Only God can judge for only He sees the full picture. I love you, Dad.  

 I love you all.

 Dennis

Being Too Careful To Live

All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on. -Havelock Ellis

  I received an email from a dear friend today. She said that she was at a prayer meeting last night and people are hurting all over. She went on to say that "My pain may be different from your pain but PAIN, IS PAIN, IS PAIN...".  It's in the air all around us. We are clearly aware of our own circumstances, but if you take 5 minutes to truly find out how your neighbor is doing you will learn that they, too, have some hills to climb; some burdens to bear.  I think we can become so engrossed in our situations that we forget that we have not shed one drop of blood while striving against our perils. Sometimes I long for the teachings of old. I vividly recall my parents, other adults, and especially preachers telling us younger ones to "put that lip in and be strong". It wasn't that they were being heartless towards whatever wounded our feelings, they were just letting us know that in this life there will be heartaches and pain, but not necessarily unto death. Many of us will agree that we are a pampered society; a pacified people. We are hysterically germophobic and overly cautious about everything. Our children can't ride a bicycle without us first outfitting them with a helmet, knee pads, and shoulder pads. We refrain from doing any sport that envolves physical contact which may produce a little blood. I recall playing tackle football on the asphalt and I and my brothers were doing BMX jumps off cliffs  before the sport became nationally syndicated. And we didn't have helmets!   You can't help but to wonder what ever happened to kids playing Dodge Ball, tether ball, and jumping double-dutch at a dangerously fast pace...using two jump ropes at the same time?   Yes, I miss the old days when even eating a dropped ice cream cone was alright as long as you kissed it up towards Heaven.  And it was still delicious.

 I received a text message this morning informing me that Jamal had gone to be with the Lord at approximately 9:07 a.m. Jamal was 11 or 12 years of age. He was born with a rare genetic condition called Larsen Syndrone which affects 1 out of every 100,000 people.  Symptoms include:

Multiple joint dislocations

Foot deformities

Non-tapering, cylindrical shaped fingers

Unusual facial appearance

Less commonly occurring:

• Short stature
• Additional skeletal abnormalities
• Cleft palate
• Heart defects
• Hearing impairment
• Mental retardation
• Pulmonary hypoplasia

  Jamal never was able to ride a bike, run on the playground, play soccer or throw a baseball. He never knew the innocence of a first kiss by a girl and he never played a video game. Jamal was bedridden from birth and was under the constant care of his parents and nurses until he drew his last breath. I find comfort in knowing that today he is with the Lord and is running, jumping, laughing and skipping along with those who have gone on before him. In Heaven he is now whole.  I want to challenge you, my friends, to do something today. I challenge you to let go of yourself and consider the needs of others more than the needs of your own selves.  Stop acting as if God is unable to keep you and protect you better than you can do for yourself. Live your life. Have fun again. Take a dare and stop being such a wimp about everything. Come out of that restricted and afflicted state you have been living in for so long and Live Your Life! Tommorrow is not promised to you and you only live in this flesh once. What are you waiting on? You can sit there if you want, but I go to get busy.
 Have a great and productive day.
 Love you all,
 Dennis

  

More Than A Conquerer

  "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?...Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us." Romans 8:35,37 

   I listened to a woman preacher this morning on television after my morning walk as she spoke about how God's grace is there for us regardless of our shortcomings. She related to stories of Abraham and King David and how their homes and personal lives were laden with dysfunction and sinful acts, yet the grace of God through Christ Jesus was able to cleanse them of all unrighteousness, pull their feet out of the sinking sand and set them up upon a solid rock. When I am reminded of God's grace in such a manner I immediately feel a comfort and assurance that His eye is truly on the sparrow. Whatever uneasiness I am experiencing, whatever despair attempts to shroud my life, whatever loss or pain I have been caused to endure I know that my Lord is able and will deliver me. As in the case of renowned football player, Michael Vick, even when we sin willingly God is able to restore us to our former glory and beyond once we earnestly are sorry for our offenses. So many do not live to realize this because the enemy has robbed them of the ability to forgive themselves; and if we cannot forgive ourselves how then can we look up to God from our despicable state and boldly come before the throne of grace and receive mercy? 

  For so long I was one who was so concerned as to what people thought or said about me. It used to cause me anger, but mostly it drove me to excel in everything I did. When people told me I was too poor to do this or too small to do that I was driven to show them that they were wrong. When I joined the military I came up against the same negativity and it only made me hunger for success even the more. I have learned that my battle against naysayers and haters will never end; for we wrestle not against flesh and blood but against spiritual wickedness. To look at this in a positive light, just tell yourself that the attacks of the enemy only sharpens your sword. You must be doing something right to be attacked with so much. So let us not be weary in doing what is good and right and honorable and remember that the weapons of our warfare are not made of weak earthly things but, instead, are mighty weapons such as love, joy, peace, long suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness and temperance (restraint).  

  Today proposes to be the first day of a new beginning for me. Once again, I feel no fear as I stand in faith. I pray that God will grant me the serenity to rebuild in peace and joy. He has blessed me with a great number of friends who are prayer warriors in their own right and together we touch each other's lives daily. I've just preached myself happy.

I love you all.

Dennis 

   

Prepared For War

 I was awakened by God's gentle finger this morning. There was an anticipation and urgency I had not felt in a long while as I eagerly rolled out of my bed. Today was a day to go forth and claim my victories. Anticipation spurred me on as I went downstairs to get dressed in my walking gear. Throughout the week I had conversed with several friends who were experiencing the attacks of the enemy in their homes, on their jobs, and in their personal lives. I responded to them that the enemy is aware that God is about to do great things in each of our lives and that he desires to sift us as wheat; make us distraught and weak and fearful so that we will become full of despair and woe which, in turn, will cause us to miss the specific move of God in our lives. I am encouraged to be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might.

  As I dressed indoors for my morning walk out in the brisk, chilly air outside I began to put on the whole armour of God.  I slipped on my walking shorts and wrapped my waist band about my midsection I was reminded to have my loins bound with truth. I put on my reflective vest which reminded me to put on the breast plate of righteousness. I laced up my shoes and strapped on my 5 pound leg weights and heard Him tell me to let my feet be shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace. I put on my finger-less gloves and grasped my 5 pound wrist weights to enable me to carry the shield of faith so that I may be able to dispel the fiery darts, (attacks), of the enemy. I placed my white head band upon my crown which is symbolic of the helmet of salvation. And finally, as I stretched on my front porch I prayed and thanked God for things seen and unseen in my life. I prayed in the Spirit with supplication and with a watchfulness of things that are to come.

  In this time of trial and tribulation I have not the Spirit of fear, but rather I calmly and confidently have the Spirit of love, power, and above all else, a sound and grounded mind. I stand as a Strong man at the door of my physical and spiritual house and I am prepared to dispel the very gates of hell. My wounds were deep but I am healed by His stripes. It is with the powerful words of the scripture that I stand boldly and reclaim my rightful inheritance from above.

  I am thankful for this resurgence of power and unwavering faith, knowing that all things work together for good to them who love God and who are, indeed, called to His purpose.
 Have a great and victorious day.
I love you all,
Dennis

Joy Is Coming In The Morning

 It is on our failures that we base a new and different and better success.

    -Havelock Ellis

I once heard it preached that blessings are like coins which you find on the ground. When you pick up the coins you put in in your pocket and as you continue to receive blessings (coins) and put them in your pocket you soon will have a considerable amount. Later, (at some point in your life), when you are in need you can put your hand into the pocket containing the coins, (blessings), jiggle them around and you will be reminded that you have seen hard times before, that you have known of the supernatural and sufficient ways of God and you will be revived. 

 

I was in church on Easter Sunday. I was actually wanting to relax from my recent road trip which I had returned from on Saturday afternoon, but I needed to get out because I was feeling a bit anxious. The church contained a very nice congregation and they made me feel very welcome. During the sermon the minister paused for an opportunity to allow the members to audibly submit prayer requests. One by one, the congregation began to utter their prayer requests for:

•  A neighbor with cancer
•  The man down the street with no legs
• A friend preparing for surgery
•  A family who had just lost a loved one
•  Another prayer for someone with cancer
• A young man who was leaving that very afternoon for military service

  I sat there and listened intently to the requests as the were spoken all around me. I felt nearly embarrassed because when the minister initially asked for the prayer requests I immediately thought about myself and my own plight(s) I was currently experiencing.  The more the parishioners spoke their requests the less inclined I was willing to submit my own. Here I sat thinking of "poor me" and my woes and here these people were requesting God's favor for friends, neighbors, and utter strangers. I had to admit to myself that I was somewhat ashamed; and rightfully so. God has always brought me out of darkness into light; from hunger to fullness, from sickness to health, from pain and sorrow to life and love. In a flash of thought I was reminded of how I had been in hard places before. I was feeling hurt and abandoned with no hope,( just as I had felt when I had been in a fix at other times), but then I remembered that my present conundrum was merely an opportunity to shift into another gear; to seek another level in life, because we often become complacent in our present state as if their is nothing else to attain.

  I bowed and prayed along with the congregation and openly sought God's help for the requests of the people. Inwardly, I was at peace and had been given a second wind from above.   My prayers are going forth for my friends and neighbors, seen and unseen, that the good and perfect will of the Lord be done in your lives.  We must learn to rejoice before we see the sun.

I love you all.

Dennis

While I Was Walking

  This is one of those blogs I don't know if I will ever post simply because it is being written at a very onerous time in my life. It has nothing to do with my environment, for I love my home, this city and many of its people. I will state that I am not at all pleased with the employees of either of the VA hospitals in this city because nearly all of them are very defensive upon initial approach and are not very competent in their duties. I have pondered on giving the work force another try, but with each visit to the VA I am convinced that my condition will become agitated, as it did in Kentucky, and I would find myself hospitalized again. When I worked I was a friendly and caring employee. I found it to be no problem to go to the fullest extent to aid both patient and co-worker.  My internal motto was "There is no such thing as "Can't". I do not see such a mindset very often today. Many years ago the Veterans hospitals were seen as the lowest system of health care in the country. Our Veterans were treated more like inmates than the heroic persons that they were. The "physicians" who worked there were not of the highest caliber and because the government believed they owned the soldier, (hence the term G.I. meaning "Government Issue"), oftentimes soldiers who were in these VA hospitals were experimented on via mind control, chemicals,(such as LSD), and germ warfare; to name a few. Recently reports of such experiments on soldiers at Edgewood Arsenal in Maryland from 1950 - 1975 have been filed in court.  
  Sometimes you can get into a certain place in life where you feel as if you have reached your pinnacle; that you have arrived to the exact place that God has ordained for you to be. I remember I once read a book concerning pastors and their church and how it stated that a pastor may feel that the church he presides over is God's will for him, when in fact the truth of the matter is that the church is dead and has been dead for many years; perhaps even before the man of God began officiating over it. What am I saying? Merely this: Sometimes a situation can be kept alive by unnatural procedures.  Imagine how a hospital will provide oxygen to a comatose patient. The patient is considered "alive" but yet he has no true quality of life.  We sometimes believe that since we have attained a certain status, i.e. a fine home(s), nice cars, money, belonging to "the right" clubs, and certain grade levels on our jobs, that we have crossed the finish line. Outwardly we appear as the epitome of true success, but inwardly, (where it counts), we are selfish, manipulating, evil, calculating and dishonest. We stand on the necks of others in order to appear bigger than we ever will be. We love standing close to anything spiritual in hopes that some of this purity will affix to our dilapidated and unforgiving souls, not remembering that light and darkness can never occupy the same space. We appear to move about with a purpose but in reality we are hooked to an oxygen tube.
  I often find myself longing for more simple times when I knew nothing of prejudice, never felt the stinging darts of jealously, when I would freely give my heart to the ones I loved with no fear of ever being hurt or betrayed, and a time when we all shared what we had because as the old Sunday School song says "My whole body belongs to God.  Now, more than ever before, I understand what Jesus was saying to Nicodemus when he said "You must be born again". (John 3:7).  
  On my morning walks I talk freely to God and I question His will for me; I ask him to lay His hands upon me that I may be who I truly am to be while here on this earth.  I have learned that if I am to ever experience a true peacefulness in my soul I must be unafraid to make certain changes in my life.  I have discovered that there are some things that I must cut away. I have learned that there are some things I must keep. 
 I hope to speak to you again soon.
 Dennis    

A Pittance For The Warriors

  I listened intently to the newscaster as she described the recent killing of 16 Afghan civilians by a 38 year old Army sergeant stationed in Afghanistan with his Army unit.  PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) immediately came to mind and as I researched more into the incident I learned a troubling fact concerning the soldier: He had already served three tours in Iraq, where he suffered a traumatic brain injury, according to news reports.  There is a military base in Washington State known as Lewis-McChord. Not only is the soldier who allegedly committed these killings from Lewis-McChord, but there seems to be a string of other incidents which have emanated from this now infamous Army base:

•  A 28-year-old Army specialist from Joint Base Lewis-McChord, recently home from Afghanistan, had walked into a parking garage in Salt Lake City with a full set of body armor, ammunition clips and his AR-15 rifle.
• Spc. Brandon Barrett had gone absent without leave after a drunken-driving arrest near the sprawling military base in Washington state and had begun sending ominous messages to friends. “About to show the world they shouldn’t (mess) with soldiers back from a deployment,” he said in one. Barrett died after firing at a police officer, and Lewis-McChord was rocked by questions about how a soldier so angry had been able to go AWOL in plain sight for weeks.
• This week, accusations that a Lewis-McChord sergeant in southern Afghanistan shot to death at least 16 civilians were added to the dozens of cases of murders, suicides, assaults and other crimes linked to soldiers from the base.
• Lewis-McChord is one of the main infantry engines for Iraq and Afghanistan. Lately, the base has earned a reputation for a series of horrific crimes emanating from there, including those by a “kill team” of Stryker brigade soldiers accused of murdering Afghan civilians for sport, a father accused of water-boarding his child and a soldier accused of dousing his wife’s legs with lighter fluid and setting her on fire.
• Twelve suicides were reported last year among Lewis-McChord soldiers, and earlier this year, a 24-year-old Iraq war veteran shot and killed a park ranger at Mount Rainier National Park.
• In February, the head of the base’s Madigan medical center was temporarily removed from duty after reports that diagnoses were overturned for hundreds of soldiers scheduled to receive help for post-traumatic stress disorder, allegedly in some cases in an attempt to save money.
• Service members and their families have long complained about the difficulty of getting good mental health services at Lewis-McChord, saying that soldiers are discouraged by their local sergeants or face stigma among peers. Many say they are handed prescriptions for an anti-anxiety or sleeping medication and dismissed.

    As I read about the above incidents at Lewis-McChord as reported by the Los Angeles Times, I was both angry and personally troubled. My brother, Victor, and I recently had a lengthy conversation about our tour in Operation Desert Storm/Shield and the anxieties it brought upon us both during and after the conflict. However; this blog is not about that, but instead it concerns my ongoing lamentations for troubled soldiers who society will never be able to understand unless they have actually experienced their plight. Sympathy does not score any points when it comes to the needs of a soldier suffering from PTSD.

   It is largely because of the numerous accounts of "soldiers gone wild" at bases such as Lewis-McChord and many others, that a renewed focus has been placed on the treatment of returning war-time soldiers. Unfortunately, the military has not done very well in recognizing that these men and women need more than an annual or bi-annual visit with their primary care physician and certainly more than a 30 minute session with one of the many understaffed psychiatric clinics within the Veterans Hospitals.

  What is the answer? Heaven knows. It seems that many soldiers suffering from PTSD are handling their demons via self-medication and sometimes by partaking in risky behaviors.  I have also learned that because PTSD is an ongoing disorder, oftentimes a Veteran's family and friends will begin to dismiss their symptoms and confuse their behavior/mood/attitude/irritability as them simply being difficult. 
  I am mindful of the phrase spoken by the English evangelical preacher and martyr, John Bradford; "There but for the grace of God, go I." May God and His angels, both heavenly and here on earth, watch over soldiers and Veterans everywhere.

Dennis