Thursday, December 22, 2016

HOUSE MOUNTAIN, #137 (published 12/22/2016; updated 10/3/2022)

10/3/2022, Monday: I updated by adding section titles only. I did not change a word.

House Mt. #136, 3/16/2016

My House Mountain hike #136 was on Saturday, 3/26/2016 – three days before my world changed for the bad, when the uninsured chicklet failed to yield to my right of way (mentioned in 12/8/2016 article).

House Mt. #137 (#1 “bionic”), 12/22/2016

Instead of hike #150 (which it would have been, by my estimate), I took hike #137 today, 12/22/2016. This was my first time on “my mountain,” since I was almost killed.

I hiked alone on the two little loop trails at the base of the mountain. One trail is 0.2 miles. The other is 0.35 miles, according to the signs. I hiked on uneven paths, down and up a few dips, and over a few fallen logs.

A man has to start somewhere. I cannot yet “mountain goat” up the side of the mountain, but I have taken my first hike. My surgically repaired right knee and foot (which is still swollen and scabbed) took the pounding well enough.

I rejoice that I could take this little hike on “my mountain!” Of course, the rocky bluffs are calling me. How much longer before I answer? Give me time. Today, the weather was sweatshirt warm and sunny, a little too warm for the time of year. Enjoy the photos.

Thursday, December 08, 2016

PEARL HARBOR at HOMEPLACE (published 12-8-2016)

December 7, 1941. The mention of that date is sufficient. I was not yet born, but I have seen the film and photo footage. I have listened to the stories. I have seen the documentaries. I have heard my parents and grandparents talk about it. That date changed this country.

Yesterday was 12/7/2016, 75 years after that “infamous” day. The weather was sunny and seasonally cool. I drove my new, ol’ truck, an ’06 Nissan Frontier, to and from the homeplace, for the first time, since my ol' ’95 Nissan truck died, and I almost did, when chicklet failed to yield to my right of way, on 3/29/2016. That date changed my life, at least for these several months.

Yes, I have improved. I can walk well enough, and I can drive. I am not yet able to hike up a mountain. On 12/5/2016, I was medically “released” to return to work, on 12/19/2016. I will work two weeks part-time; afterward, I will be back to full-time.

Yay, rah. Ho hum. Okay. I am still alive, and I have recovered well enough to drive and to return to work. Don’t get me wrong. I am glad that I am out and about, going toward a normal, active life. I can see a finish line up ahead. The end of the marathon is in sight.

What’s wrong? The prolonged and ongoing recovery has been and is just a gritty process. It’s the reality of life. At least, I am going forward. (My stubborn, strong will has helped in this.) The deeper purpose in life is still missing. Yes, I will be a good husband, brother, uncle, and in-law. I will be a good neighbor. I will be a good coworker. Is there anything else? Pause. . . Wait. . . Oh well, we’ll see. In my 8/26/2016 post, I asked God: “Could you not open a door of complete physical healing and another door of opportunity to serve you, as I once did before you took Mom home? I await your reply and/or action -- as I have been doing since 2000, I do now still.” The long physical healing process, still ongoing, sees a finish line. What about the “door of opportunity?” We will see. Until then, I go back to being a bureaucrat in eleven more days.

To those, if any, reading, I wish you and yours a Merry Christmas. Maybe, I will take my long-suffering wife with me to hunt a tree on Saturday, if I am physically up to it.

Friday, August 26, 2016

I’M STILL ALIVE – WHY? (published 8/26/2016)

I almost died! I should have died. Why am I still alive?

The almost three year silence is now broken. I write on this blog again, to whomever may read it. Life the last two plus years has been the mundane: work, chores, hike, family and friends, eat, sleep, etc. Life was okay, if not wonderful. I lost interest in writing. Life was going through the motions.

Life, however, changed on 3/29/2016. My ol' ’95 Nissan pickup and I were on the way from the office to home. An 18-year-old, with no insurance, decided that I didn’t deserve the right of way, and she hit us. My ol’ truck died. I almost died. Two hospitals had me for 36 days combined. I am still unable to return to work. I am improving to the point that I’m slowly going insane, by not having much to do, being confined at home. So, now I write.

Today, by the way, would have been Granny and Papaw Wood’s anniversary! They married in 1931. How I miss them and the many others who have gone on to a better place.

Why am I not in that better place with them? Why did I not die on 3/29/2016? As the Russians say well, “Только Бог знает!” I still can’t work, drive, walk well, hike, do yard work, check on and do work at the homeplace, etc. I’m still here for my longsuffering and loving bride. (Our 30th wedding anniversary was spent at home, with me still unable to walk.) I’m still around for brothers, some closer than others. If, however, I can’t yet do the things that I need to do or do the things that bring me joy (i.e., hiking, working at the homeplace, etc.), then why did I not die with my ol’ truck?

The above Russian phrase is “only God knows.” God only knows why I am still alive. He has decided to not inform me as to why. I was once an earthen vessel, in whom he had placed the glorious gospel message. I found joy and purpose in serving Him in fulltime ministry and then mission work. Life, however, changed when Mom went to see Jesus, after her yearlong illness and suffering. The “fire in my bones” was extinguished. I didn’t extinguish it. He did. For almost 16 years now, I have been going through the motions of living, with my ministry purpose taken from me.

"So, God, howdy. I’m still here! Since I’m still alive, could you not open a door of complete physical healing and another door of opportunity to serve you, as I once did before you took Mom home? I await your reply and/or action -- as I have been doing since 2000, I do now still."