Ellis Island was the first piece of America that millions of immigrants ever saw – ever touched. Perhaps it was that way for somebody in your family. Ellis Island was the point of entry for all the immigrants coming through New York; a little island in the shadow of the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor.
You remember when the word window just referred to that opening in a wall that kind of you then covered with glass? Well, NASA changed all that. A window is still an opening, but the folks at Cape Canaveral use that word to refer to that brief period of time where everything is right for the launch: the wind is okay, the weather's okay, they've checked it at the Cape, they've checked it down range, and the atmospherics are okay for communication. The conditions have been predicted for the time of return and they look good, too. But the window will pass soon. If you're going to get this thing off the ground, go when the window's open.
It's about that time of year when you start getting all those Christmas letters from people. You know, all those family letters that tell you about all the things they've done: Junior's in Boy Scouts, Emily's in cheerleading. I've noticed there's one recurring word; it's almost like a theme that runs through all those letters. It's that little four-letter word "busy." Everybody tells you how busy they are all year long. "I'm busy, busy, busy and I have a busy, busy, busy family."
So who cares about the weather in Afghanistan, or Germany, or the Middle East, or Asia? Well...if you've got a soldier there, you care. All of the sudden you want to know what's going on, the news about that place is very important to you. You know, when you know and love someone, you're following all the news very closely from the part of the world that is now their home. It's amazing how your interests, how your involvement changes when you have a soldier of your own.
Well, I watched three of our children run on this track called high school senior. Oh we know about the disease. It's a creeping disease called senioritis. I've seen it for years in other teenagers, and then finally we got to watch it in our own home. It begins with the sense of "Okay, I'm a senior now! High school is my past. I don't care about high school any more even though I have another year." At best a senior just sort of slacks off until graduation. Or at worst, he or she becomes irresponsible and maybe even destructive. Senioritis? It doesn't bring out the best in anybody at any age.
There are certain times of the year when the lawn grows like the set of a Tarzan movie. I remember a time when we had been gone for two or three weeks. We came home and saw the lawn taking over the neighborhood. Now, my youngest son had been very, very busy that summer. But finally he was available on this day when it was desperately needed. So he said, "OK, the lawn's high." He and the mower are outside ready to go. And then I was waiting for the beautiful music of that mower running-nothing. Why? My son came in and said, "Dad, I tried everything. That mower isn't working." Oh, man, it was frustrating. There was the need, here's the worker. Where's the tool?
I was on a flight from Chicago to Newark, and I was busily working until suddenly the pilot put on the brakes. We weren't really near Newark yet, so I tried to figure out what's going on. It looked as if the plane was beginning to circle, and our wing was dipped down a little bit. So pretty soon I said, "You know, I believe I've seen that house before. I think I've seen that field before. Those trees look familiar." I got to see them again, and again, and another time. Yep, we were in that time warp that is dreaded by every frequent flier called the holding pattern. We weren't standing still. No, I'm happy to say we were not standing still. That wouldn't have been good. But we were using up time, we were using up fuel. We were in constant motion; we just weren't making any progress.
"I want to give you a boat!" Well, that's what Carl announced to me actually. See, he wanted to give it to the youth ministry I was working with at the time. And I was grateful, but I wasn't quite sure what to do with a boat. Carl had this little fishing boat, and honestly it was pretty run down. He couldn't use it because he had had a heart attack. And now he gave it to us to sell and get what we could for it. Well, we were really in a tight time financially, and so I accepted the boat. I asked a boating friend of mine how much it was worth. He said, "Boy, I think you might get $1,000 for it." And that's exactly what Carl said he would have sold it for.
Ever since I was little I've been fascinated by the American Revolution, and I always wanted to see Concord Bridge, where it sort of all began. You know, the shot heard around the world? By the time I got there, I had two little boys of my own who were not fascinated by the American Revolution. I wanted to spend a while at Concord Bridge, imagining those Colonial farmers descending and the Red Coats stepping up to the bridge in their rigid formation.
I was speaking in Mobile, Alabama when I heard about this amazing phenomenon that occasionally takes place there. It's along the eastern shore of Mobile Bay. They call it Jubilee. It happens on a summer night sometime between midnight and six, and the fish, and the crab, and all the other sea critters suddenly move in very close to the shore. It's like they get so close that many of them are right up on the beach. The locals just walk along and they scoop up the fish and the crab, and they gather as much seafood as they want. Imagine what an opportunity it is for the fishermen! I mean, they can grab anything they want without going out in a boat.