Okay, you book your airline flights in advance to get the best possible fare. The only problem is occasionally something will change and I can't use that ticket. They'll let me use it later, but sometimes I wish I could give it to one of our staff or a family member to use toward a trip they're taking. No can do. No, see, that ticket has my name on it. The person using it has to prove with photo I. D. that they are me because that's the rules. Only I can go on my ticket.
My wife and I had the chance to visit this Civil War battlefield at Vicksburg, Mississippi. I asked her if she had any firsthand memories of the war that she wanted to share with me, which almost started another battle at Vicksburg. President Lincoln had called Vicksburg the "key" to the Confederacy and he told his generals, "We do not yet have the key in our pocket." Standing on high cliffs overlooking the Mississippi, it was a daunting challenge for the Union Army. For more than a year there were bombardments from the river and the many hills. There were numerous clashes on land. And at the end, it was a siege that actually drove Vicksburg's residents to live in caves. Everywhere we drove, there were markers indicating Union and Confederate regiments that had battled it out for the hills all around the city. Some of the bloodiest fighting took place as Northern forces mounted bold attacks on the Southern strongholds which were atop the highest points. As in so many battles, the fight for the high ground helped determine the outcome of the battle.
Our high school grandson came up with "Hmmm" kind of gems. "Life's different from school. In school you have the lessons then the test. In life, you have the test, then the lessons." Like I said, "Hmmm." Now, we hear a lot about the need for more testing in this pandemic to know what's going on inside of people if we're going to contain and trace this virus. Yeah, we need to be testing for coronavirus, but the fact is the coronavirus has been testing us with fear and financial stress, disruption and distance and loss of control and connection. There's something about a crisis like this that exposes what's inside.
When teenage boys come in the door from school, they have one thing on their mind, "What's for dinner?" Of course, they've been building up to this moment since shortly after lunch that day. Certain answers will, of course, make them happier than others. For one, I dreaded hearing my mother say, "We're having a casserole." I'm not sure why, but casseroles just didn't do it for me. But for our boys, and for many boys and girls of all ages, all over the world, there is an answer that no one wants to hear when they ask, "What's for dinner?" Answer: "Leftovers."
When it was 7:00 a.m. in the Hutchcraft house, the word "chaos" took on new meaning - a typical school day morning. It was very exciting to get two teenage sons up, get them around, and get them dressed and out to school. Of course, both of them were a little crazy like their Mother, and that contributed to the chaos as well. Finally we were able to get them off to school.
As part of our ministry among Native American young people, our sons helped out with the local high school football team on a reservation. That was a team that hadn't known much about winning until the previous season. The players were pretty much the same as the year before, but their record was dramatically different that year. The year before, they won one game. That year they were undefeated and even went to the state playoffs. Everybody was in shock! You could tell it was going to be a great season after one of their very early games, because they soundly defeated a team that had beaten them the year before 59-0! What was the difference? Pretty much same players; pretty much same opponents, but a new coach. He knew what to do with that team!
Our daughter was just a toddler, and she'd often talk with me while I was brushing my teeth in the morning, or shaving, or combing my hair. But one morning, unbeknownst to my wife, our daughter got in the bathroom, stood on something, and got the blade razor that I shaved with. When her mother walked in, our daughter was stroking that razor across her face, minus any shaving cream and leaving some pretty serious scratches and scrapes behind.
People in the real estate business will tell you that three things really matter when it comes to the value of any property: location, location, and location. Apparently, the President's White House team believes that, too. After the re-election of Bill Clinton many years ago, "Newsweek" actually described the efforts of various officials to get the best office spaces at the White House. I guess it happens with every administration. But I liked the title, "The Geography of Power." So what makes an office at the White House a good office? Well, if you had a choice about your office, you'd probably want the one with windows and plenty of space. But that's not what matters most in the White House office scramble. It's how close are you to the Oval Office! You've got to be near the President! Right? The way they put it is this - "proximity is power." Uh-huh, it is.
A few summers ago, I went on a river trip with some young people. It was a river that had not been nearly so friendly just three months before. The spring rains had been record breakers and the resulting floods had even redirected parts of the river. Our guide took us down a whole new channel of the river that hadn't even been there three months earlier, and he pointed out this palatial home that was built near the river by a multi-millionaire. The flood had suddenly made his home very vulnerable. It was saved only by a hastily-constructed brick wall. A lot of the landscaping around that home couldn't be saved, like the bridges for example. See, since this had just been a little stream before the flood, the homeowner built some charming wooden bridges across it at several points. Now the bridges weren't really destroyed, they were just, like, relocated. As we moved downstream, we saw this charming wooden bridge sitting in the middle of an island of mud in the middle of the river. Later we saw another bridge, pretty intact, just sitting on the riverbank. Oh, they were nice bridges all right, they just didn't go anywhere.
It would have to be near the top of the list of one of the most memorable commercials of all times. It actually goes back to the 1980s. Anybody who was around then will remember this commercial. See, there are men who sit in ad offices all day long, struggling to come up with that million dollar slogan that will impress the nation. Well, there was one that was on everyone's lips back then; three haunting words: "Where's the beef?"
Hanna lives in coal country so she's been around miners a lot. Being in youth ministry for years I've been around minors a lot too. Oh wait, that's a different kind; it's spelled differently. But Hanna and a friend of mine were talking recently about the mines and the miners and a surprising fact came out. Hanna said the most common cause of death among those coal miners was electrocution. She said they live in a real remote area and the mining operation was pretty old and relatively primitive. So there were sometimes problems with the wiring in the mine, and miners actually getting electrocuted. What compounds the problem is that the nearest doctor is many miles away, which led Hanna to ask the doctor one time if there was anything the local folks could do to help while they're waiting for the doctor to arrive. She was surprised by the doctor's answer. "Well, there is one thing. Hug the injured miner." Well, obviously Hanna wanted to know why. He said, "When people are about to go into shock, there is something about a hug, about human touch - about human tenderness."
When your airplane flight is over, it's not really over. See, there's that closing chapter of a trip that you get to spend at baggage claim. At my home airport they have these big carousels where suitcases are dumped out and where they circle until their owners claim them. Now, my bags seem to have a knack for waiting until almost all the other bags are out, for some reason. So I just keep watching those suitcases of all shapes and sizes and conditions appear, and waiting for one I like - no, no, no. I mean, one I recognize. But there always seem to be some phantom bags there. Have you noticed that? They just keep circling and circling and circling. And since the luggage carousel is all I really have to look at, the show gets pretty boring! Yep, there goes that baggage again!
I saw this news story about a highly successful New York surgeon who volunteers a month every year to donate his services in needy countries. This particular summer, he'd had set up a tent clinic in the jungles of Costa Rica. In the middle of operating on a five-year-old boy, it became apparent this boy desperately needed blood. Problem: only 2% of the human race has that boy's blood type. Suddenly the doctor excused himself, only to return a few minutes later with the needed blood. It turns out that doctor is one of the 2% with that type! There, in the middle of that jungle, that boy's life could only be saved by one man's blood. Just like me.
The phone rang in my study. I thought my wife was asleep at the other end of the house. Even though I was really preoccupied with what I was writing, I answered the phone so it wouldn't disturb her. A guy named Mike said hello and he started explaining his special offer related to satellite TV. I wasn't interested, and I tried to tell him that. He just kept talking. I was just starting to tell him no a little more forcefully when I heard a little giggle on the phone. My wife was awake; she had picked up the extension. That's when I woke up! I hate to tell you this. I was talking to a recording. Feeling stupid now! Click.
You learn a lot about eagles when you spend time with Native Americans. Like how their babies learn to fly. When Mama builds their nest, she lays a foundation of rocks and sticks - then covers it with leaves and feathers and foliage. And the baby eaglets love hanging out there.
There's this two-lane highway that's a main link between communities. And when they had to close one lane for a short-term road project, it created some delays for all of us tremendously patient people. It was one of those projects where one flagger stops the traffic in one lane while another flagger allows the traffic for the other lane to proceed. All day long, open your lane, close your lane, open your lane, close your lane. They had a car with a "pilot car" sign on it that led the proceeding traffic to the end of the one-lane area. Then the pilot of the pilot car (How you doing with all this?) got to turn around and drive back with the traffic following him from the other side. That's got to be exciting work! One lady apparently was short on patience that day. Oh, she waited until her lane was open and the pilot car came. She happened to be the first in line, but her patience ended as soon as she started to follow the pilot car. She decided to floor it and pass the pilot car. Bad idea! She crashed right into their heavy equipment.
A cold is no big deal, unless it decides to expand its coverage from your nose to your ears. And even then it's no big deal unless you're coming down from 30,000 feet up in a commercial airliner. This is not a medical news bulletin - it's my personal testimony. I could feel a little something in my ears before I took off, but I didn't have any idea how the altitude ups and downs of my flight were going to totally block my ears and cause me some nasty pain on the way down. The poor lady next to me was telling me some of her heartaches and I kept yawning just to keep my head from exploding. And as my ears got more and more clogged, it was like somebody had turned down the volume knob on what she was saying. She must have thought I was a really great listener. Well, it was a painful afternoon, but the changing pressure in that plane let me know that I had a problem and it drove me to do what I usually try to avoid, go to the doctor. I'm glad I did - he really helped me.
At the time, the Thresher was the fastest and quietest nuclear submarine there was. Until that awful day in 1963 when it suddenly disappeared in the Atlantic. All 129 crew members were lost. When they finally located the doomed sub, they found it broken into six pieces. The cause of the deadliest submarine disaster in history, actually, has been hard to nail down. But ultimately it seems the Thresher collapsed because they were at a depth, for whatever reason, where the pressure on the outside became greater than the pressure on the inside.
Our four-year-old grandson loved that Sunday night program the church had for boys his age. He learned lots of Bible verses there, he made friends, and he participated enthusiastically in the special activities they offered. And then they announced that the next week the kids should come dressed as what they wanted to be when they grew up. Our daughter asked our grandson what he wanted to be. He said, "I want to be a grandfather." She shouldn't have told me. I know, that kind of made me melted grandfather all over our carpet. I expect his other grandfather probably felt the same way. They borrowed some of my clothes and they went to work making a grandson into a grandfather. He said, "I even smell like Grandpa!" I'm not sure what that meant. But it did feel good that a grandfather is what he wants to be.
It started out as a major battle for Jason. It turned out to be a major blessing for someone else. In early March, Jason's symptoms were just a mild cough and congestion. Then the headaches. Then the fever, the body aches, and the shortness of breath. And, you guessed it, by mid-March the test showed he had coronavirus. He isolated himself for ten days to protect his wife and his 11-month-old daughter. Finally, he was able to announce on social media that the medical folks said he had beaten it. It was about that time, there was another COVID patient, though, in his area who was in dire condition and not responding to medications. That's when they contacted Jason to see if he'd be willing to help with an experimental treatment - donating his plasma to be given to the endangered patient. Hoping Jason's antibodies from fighting COVID might help, they gave him those antibodies. They gave him that plasma. Last report - that patient was breathing better each day and starting to recover. Jason looked back on his COVID battle and said: "This thing ended up possibly saving someone's life."
