We seek excitement and adventure. We seem to be hard-wired for it. Climbing mountains and whitewater rafting are fun. I have never engaged in either. Hunting is a popular sport. Again, I have never hunted. Skiing appears exhilarating. I have never skied. I had a pair of skates when I was young, but I fell down a lot. We kids played compulsory Steal the Bacon. I never captured the Bacon. I do enjoy eating Bacon. I do not think that counts.

Adrenaline is addictive. I have felt the rush. Faith in Christ gave me an adrenaline rush that has never left me. I am happy when I see the poor comforted and the hungry fed. Those of us who have experienced irregular days know the joy of the regular ones. The majority of life is regular days. It is easy to allow them to pass unnoticed. Those days when nothing changes and nothing is worse for wear. The days when our sense of place is foundational and our peace is quiet and real. A good routine is our place in the plan. Laughter comes from the bottom of our hearts, and hope is a wellspring.

Life passes rapidly when we ignore the regular days. Most days are unchanging as we wait for the next holiday or special event. Too much emphasis on the Big Day leaves us languishing beside the ocean of our days, waiting for the magic moment. We become old and recall only a few days of our special lives.

‘Life is a grand gift,’ Chet proclaimed. ‘Each day I look for the Secret,’ Chet continued. ‘I enjoy an Oscar Mayer Weiner uncooked with a little relish and mustard,’ Chet smiled. ‘The mystery of time and our place in it intrigues me,’ Chet said. ‘Life is a bit like a television show has a new episode each week,’ Chet observed. ‘Each day is another page of our story,’ He winked. ‘Some days are for building the theme and the progression of the plot,’ Chet noted. ‘Many of those days are for fishing,’ Chet laughed.

‘I enjoy the regular days as I have experienced many irregular ones,’ Neva J commented. ‘Regular days highlight the blessing of life,’ Neva J offered. ‘I experienced divorce that devastated me,’ Neva J said softly. ‘If I had not been so focused on every day being a red letter day, I would probably not have been divorced,’ Neva J said. ‘Now I understand that each day is a vital square of the Quilt Of Our Lives,’ Neva J said with conviction. ‘When I lay my head down to rest on my Beauty Rest Pillow, I know that I am God’s child and a part of his plan,’ Neva J smiled.

‘Don’t you crave more?’ Voice In The Ear asked? ‘Others are having more fun and much more excitement than you,’ VITE assured. ‘Do not listen to the meek and mild but rather to the risk takers and movers and shakers,’ Voice said with a sly grin. ‘Be unhappy if you are not drinking the nectar from the fruit of your life and letting the juice run down your chin,’ Voice said. ‘I am a Life Coach to many and I have many fans,’ the Voice said. ‘Constant movement and engagement in adrenaline activities is the goal for life,’ the Voice whispered. ‘Watch your leaders and their constant quest to make America great again,’ Voice assured. ‘You can be part of that if you will just take my advice and forsake your boring life,’ the Voice noted with a smile. ‘I have led great leaders such as Hitler and Mussolini, Pontius was my mentee…I almost had Jesus, but he chose to go another way,’ the Voice assured. ‘Constant activity and the pursuit of money is the goal of life, including Christian life, and the poor and hungry have little to do with the journey,’ Voice said with wide eyes of fire.

Stormy weather has come to stay. We folks in Little Egypt are in danger most of the time. When I was young, my elders called our geographical location Tornado Alley. I felt like one of the pins. I am about storms as Jerry Seinfeld described P.E. in high school. He mentioned the normalcy of classes such as English and Mathematics, and then the ‘Other World’ of P.E., you returned to Social Studies and Science. Such are storms for me. Life is full of plans, schemes, and dreams until devastation comes from the sky.

Life and death go hand in hand. Both talk like old friends, knowing each other well.

‘How about a latte?’ Death asks. ‘I tell you Common Grounds has the best pour over coffee I have drank, it is rich and complex…kind of like your Life,’ Death said with his wide smile. ‘I have observed that you have many friends,’ Death said. ‘I did have a lot of friends, but you know that…from before,’ Death commented. ‘Yes, my vocation was more to my liking; however, my current job has benefits,’ Death said. ‘Kids liked me in those days and their parents greeted me warmly,’ Mr. Death said. ‘I brought joyous events and happy times,’ Mr. Death reminisced. ‘I received a lot of Christmas presents and I wintered in Florida,’ Mr. Death smiled to himself. ‘I loved walking the beach and watching the Ocean,’ MD remembered. ‘People asked for my autograph and to take selfies with me,’ MD laughed. ‘Now they grimace when they see the images,’ MD noted.

‘You did important work…I should know,’ Larry Life said. ‘I hear every day of your good nature and how you were there when someone needed you,’ Larry Life continued. ‘I have a T-shirt with your picture on it and I wear it all the time,’ LL said with a wink. ‘You know my job now is subject to much goodwill as people understand me, and you are a mystery,’ LL observed. ‘Too much science fiction and ghost stories rather than the truth,’ LL assured. ‘Mr. Death, you are the most profound of mysteries, while I am what is expected, even if I am basically unknown,’ LL laughed. ‘I have a choice seat in the front at bar mitzvahs and christenings,’ LL grinned. ‘Sometimes my opinions on kids’ names are asked,’ LL said. ‘This pour-over coffee is the best I have had,’ LL proclaimed. ‘We must do this weekly,’ LL said to Mr. Death. ‘It will be good for both of us,’ LL guffawed.

‘Did you bring the matches?’ Mr. Death asked. ‘It is time for the new performance,’ Mr. Death said.

Both Mr. Death and Larry Life lit a kitchen match and displayed it for the other to see with gleams of delight in their eyes. Mr. Death’s match burned out first, and thus for the next theatrical performance, he would be Larry Life and Larry would play the role of Mr. Death…

The birds are singing. They are enjoying this wonderful life. We should be more like the birds and sing. We have much to sing about. We woke up this morning, and the beauties of nature are available to us all. No one has taken our sense of place from us. I spent some time in my new…old rock home at the Woods and found it spiritual. We are part of something ancient. We live in a special place. We have done nothing to deserve it. We did not get here on merit. Life is a gift.

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, it has been said. Even lemonade can be a bit bitter. We all drink our portion. This walk back to Jerusalem brings many surprises. Some are welcome, some are not. Worry may be a rocking chair, and some of us do a lot of rocking. When the E4 tornado hit outside Marion last Friday, I went outside under my elevated porch and took a video of the extreme hailstorm that was occurring. I thought of the Derecho of 2009 that devastated our area. I could feel death in the air. Shortly before that, I was taking my customary afternoon nap and feeling safe and secure. Safety is a myth. We are here by God’s grace.

Love all whom you meet. You may be entertaining angels unaware. Love life it is a rare commodity and scarce as hen’s teeth. The older I become the more positive I am of hope. There is evil people but most are good and well meaning. What you are suffering is shared by many of your brothers and sisters. Reach out and understand.

‘Rosie is coming over for Memorial Day Cookout,’ Neva J said. ‘She loves to join us and I love for her to be with us,’ Neva J smiled. ‘She has a heart of gold,’ Neva J noted. ‘Rosie has been shunned for most of her life and is unaccustomed to love and acceptance,’ Neva J observed. ‘She likes Dog and Suds Root beer and chili dogs,’ Neva J laughed. ‘This will be our menu and Rosie will be in her glory,’ Neva J winked. ‘She is my good friend and I love her for who she is,’ Neva J proclaimed.

‘I have invited Tommy L to the Memorial Day Cookout, and he is so excited as he was planning on getting a hamburger from Reubens’ fast food restaurant for the holiday,’ Chet said. ‘Tommy has scoliosis and sometimes drools but has a brilliant mind,’ Chet observed. ‘Tommy is a mathematical genius and has lived in the shadows due to his marginalization and challenges,’ Chet informed. ‘Tommy will love the Dog-and-Suds Chili Dogs,’ Chet noted. ‘Tommy L is a Chili Dog man,’ Chet laughed heartily. ‘Tommy L is my dear friend,’ Chet said.

‘We are different and we are the same,’ Jane noted. ‘We came to this world by surprise and provide our gifts to it,’ Jane said. ‘Rosie and Tommy L are an honor to have as friends,’ Jane said. ‘We are in the audience and they are God’s leaders in the message of Christ,’ Jane noted with tears. ‘Help us to understand the Theatre Production that we are playing roles in,’ Jane said softly.

We are accustomed to loud noises. The television sound increases when commercials are on. Politicians bark their schtick. We protest to see who is the loudest. If we holler our viewpoint loud enough, we will be heard over our opposition. Political success has become about who can demean the other successfully. No holds barred in the contest to the bottom. Wisdom is thought to be who can persecute the undesirable the loudest and with the most effect. Many of us hide from the tumult. The constant din hurts our ears. Lies said loudly are still lies.

Quite aids in hearing whispers. Even churches have gone to the surefire way of recruiting more parishioners. Loud and repetitive music. This method is sold as a way to create a spiritual environment and a path to find a quiet God. A joyful noise can come from within.

Whispers engender focus. Listening is a lost art. Not listening to have time to form a witty reply, but listening to understand who is speaking. What is the homeless girl telling us? She is homeless because no one would listen. The waif is used to being ignored and unheard, and unseen. Such is life for many of the forgotten.

The President says Walmart should absorb the increased cost of tariffs. Of course, that is not going to happen. The poor will consume what they can, and their meager lifestyle will lead to poverty. Those with resources will spend more and not like it, thus becoming louder in their protestations. The voiceless will sit listening for God’s whispers.

‘I heard a whisper in the night,’ Chet said. ‘I went into Thelma’s bedroom and she was fast asleep,’ Chet noted. ‘As I returned to bed, I heard again a quiet voice say to follow me and all will be well,’ Chet recalled. ‘I asked the voice who he was,’ Chet disclosed. ‘The whisper said that he was my friend,’ Chet noted. ‘Later, I was awakened again by a still, small voice that said for me to pack light and prepare for a long journey,’ Chet said. ‘I asked where we were going and when we would leave,’ Chet said. ‘The voice said that he would tell me when it was time,’ Chet said with tears in his eyes.

‘We will be the greatest country on earth,’ the Leader said. ‘I have all of the answers and the United States is a Big Lovely Store and I own it,’ the Leader loudly proclaimed. ‘Those who do not obey my proclamations will suffer the consequences,’ the Leader noted as he danced on one foot and then the other.

‘I hear you, Eli,’ said Samuel. Samuel heard the still, small voice call to him three times before Eli understood that God was calling Samuel.

‘Join with us and you will be rich like us,’ Political/Religious Throng proclaimed. ‘We know our master’s voice and follow his precepts,’ PRT said with gusto! ‘God is on the side of Real Americans,’ PRT said through bullhorns. ‘We are bold and loud because we are right,’ PRT said.

‘Change is coming and we will be ready for it,’ Preacher said. ‘God is not in the Circus or the Arena, he is in the quiet stillness of the woods of our soul,’ the Preacher continued. ‘Each of you is here because you heard the still, small voice of your friend,’ the Preacher smiled. ‘So many believe the blow-hard rhetoric of those who are only using them for their narcissistic purposes,’ Preacher observed. ‘When you hear the Whisper of God, you know it,’ Preacher advised. ‘Truth is surrounded by light and there is no darkness in it,’ Preacher extolled. ‘There is the facsimile and there is the original, and the difference is startling,’ Preacher noted. ‘Man will say here is Christ or there is Christ, but believe it not,’ the Preacher advised. ‘A good tree does not bear bitter fruit, a sweet fountain does not have sour water,’ the Preacher said.

‘Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.’ Worry is not productive. It has been said that worry is like a rocking chair; you rock and rock and do not get anywhere. The land of what if is full of ideas. We dwell there due to the advice of our close companion, Mr. Anxiety. Mr. A has a lot of theories. If one does not fit, he tries on another. Mr. A is certain of one thing…the world is out to get him and his friend…you.

Mr. A knows his way around a conspiracy theory. He has it all figured out. When opportunity knocks, he hides behind the door. Mr. A knows that he is not ready and that it is probably a trick anyway.

We live in a time of Anxiety. Seeking to become better, we have become bitter. Another got the promotion we sought. There must be something medically wrong with us…We do not sleep well, and we are getting fat for no reason. The neighbor’s yard always looks better than our yard. Our new car soon became old.

We wanted to grow up, we wanted to make our own decisions. We were tired of others telling us what to do. What do I do now? We say. There is no manual or guide to adulthood. Our only close advisor is Mr. Anxiety. He works for free and for the pleasure of our company. Yet we now have someone to blame our troubles on. The poor among us must be at fault. How is it they have no job and no place to live, and little to nothing to eat? They must have come over on those little rafts from Haiti and been members of the armada that invaded our country. The President referred to them as ‘Shit-Hole’ countries. Gosh, we are glad we did not come from a ‘Shit-Hole’ country…and who decides which countries are of the ‘Shit-Hole’ variety?

‘See, I knew it if I had not been held back all of these years, I could have been someone, I could have been a contender,’ He said. ‘Every time I raise my head, someone pushes it back down,’ He said. ‘Mother told me to trust no one, and I did not yet look where I am at,’ He said.

‘I think it’s the Woke people,’ She said. ‘Those who always want to help the underprivileged and those who will not speak up for themselves,’ she said. ‘When I listen to one of them speak, I can not understand what they are talking about,’ She commented. ‘We are feeding the poor kids lunches and school and if that was not bad enough now we feed them breakfast when their parents need to get up off their ass and get a job,’ She said with fire in her eyes!

‘So the hungry kids should remain hungry,’ Preacher said. ‘The children must answer for the sins of the fathers is your anxious philosophy, ‘the Preacher asked. ‘When you were a child, you were poor and in need of help…a Woke person helped you,’ Preacher reminded.

‘The Walmart is full of fruit pickers on Sunday,’ He said. ‘They do not smile much,’ He said. ‘I lost my promotion to a Hispanic woman from out of state,’ He observed. She had more education and experience, but I had been with the University longer,’ He said. ‘I think the fruit pickers should smile more and be happy for all the opportunities we are giving them, He said.

A tornado has struck just outside Marion, and many homes have been demolished. Don Sol Mexican Restaurant is one of the first to step up to help in any way they can. ‘We are all in the same boat in a stormy sea and we owe each other a terrible loyalty.’

There are people who chase storms. Adrenalin pumping rush of excitement. Looking to see something that most of us have not. I chased storms as a boy with my stepfather driving his vintage car. It was in the middle of the night so we saw little. Earl would peer out of his open car window looking for the direction to get out of the way of the tornado. A frightening proposition.

Storms are promised for this afternoon. Baseball size hail. Our climate is unsettled. We seek the whirlwind but the answer is not there. The thrill of the hunt is profound until you are on the wrong side of the hail.

What will the children read in the far future? Will they read of the end of the Republic? Or, will they study the Great Change of Directions. Will our leaders be thought as the catalyst of positive change or the fall of Rome?

Church has gone out of style for many but seeking faith has not. We are in a game of Hide and Seek. We want to look beyond the Veil and discover the Secret.

‘Neva J has gone behind the Veil again,’ Chet said. ‘She had a gleam in her eyes and a glass of Merlot in her hand,’ Chet continued. ‘Neva J said that Grandma A had beckoned for her to enter from the corner of the Veil with a wide smile,’ Chet noted. ‘Neva J told me that there are answers to the riddle and pieces to the puzzle behind the Veil,’ Chet said with sincerity.

‘Come in Neva J Preacher said we have been waiting for you.’ ‘Take a seat beside your brother Dutch he has been wanting to talk with you,’ Preacher assured. ‘The storms are bad and life is hard for so many,’ Preacher noted with concern. ‘Here is a shelter from the storm,’ Preacher assured. ‘Many are worried regarding political unrest,’ Preacher commented. ‘It was similar when I walked the Earth,’ Preacher smiled. ‘When God is forgotten men take his place,’ Preacher said. ‘Here we take time to consider the obvious pitfalls of narcissism,’ Preacher explained. ‘Helping others in word and deed was my message on Earth with no separation of who you love and who deserves our love,’ Preacher mused. ‘Dutch told me that he has not spoken with you since the Second World War,’ Preacher observed. ‘Wars and rumors of wars but the end is not yet,’ Preacher assured. ‘God is control of our lives and is not restricted by a building or cult or doctrine,’ Preacher whispered.

‘There is peace beyond the Veil,’ Neva J exulted. ‘There were people from every nation and time on Earth,’ Neva J said with excitement. ‘Nothing is lost and time stands still for reflection and renewal,’ Neva J said. ‘There were no puffed up full of themselves leaders spouting evil rhetoric,’ Neva J promised. ‘I did see a wolf lay down by a lamb,’ Neva J cried with joy.

Storms are coming. So says the meteorologist. The risk is high. Remember they tell us that it is highly unlikely a tornado will hit your home but be ready. So it goes with us in our present distress. In the midst of work and child care responsibilities to aged parents and finding a family moment we are numb to what others are going through. Somewhere we decided along the way that freedom was for only a select few. Kings are good although we fled one when we became a nation. We did not want a sovereign telling us what to do. We wanted to make our own decisions and breathe the rarified air of freedom. We fought and died for the concept of democracy. Rule by the people we proclaimed. Our President was one equal branch of our goverment containing Congress and the Judiciary. Checks and balances we sought. Monarchy bad…democracy good. Well we must be Suckers to have believed that we were the country who said to, ‘Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-most to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!’

Perhaps we should remove the lamp from the Statue of Liberty’s hand. The President is getting a 400 million dollar plane from Qatar and his Secretary of Homeland Security wants a new plane as well. The rest of us feel fortunate to arrive at our flight destination safe and well.

We seek the promise of life liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Not that we will find these jewels we simply are happy to be in the game. We have been the envy of the world. We have been the golden example. Oppressive governments have feared us. We were the Promise. As a school boy I was taught the United States was founded on religious freedom. This includes having no religion which is becoming increasingly popular.

Dictators are venal. They are transactional. Kings are set apart they are special they are better than the people. Their rulings are capricious. Their motivations are self serving. Kings kill those who disagree with them. Autocrats ship innocent people to gulags and prisons in foreign countries. I worked for a narcissist and found that one day I was in favor with him and the next day I had fallen out of grace. This is life without the rule of law.

Leaders have chaotic minds. In the bubble they live in and the sycophants who advise them they have an altered view of reality. King Henry XIII loved his wives until he did not…ask Anne Boleyn.

‘So this is the Veil Room,’ Chet said. ‘There seems to be no division in time as there are people from every historical perspective…Why, I even saw a caveman,’ Chet smiled. ‘So if this is the transition room, is this the next step, or have we been in it for our lives as we know them?’ Chet asked. ‘Pope Francis is washing the feet of the poor, and both are lost in a vortex of time,’ Chet noted. ‘I see myself as a child and a man and an old man in a glimpse of an eye,’ Chet marveled. ‘I am in a first-grade classroom at Hillcrest School with Billy B, and the teacher is asking me to take my hat off and place it in the cloak room…I wondered what the cloak room was for a moment,’ Chet mused. ‘Billy B and I are playing with our western action figures, and I have Daniel Boone, who is fashioned after the actor Fess Parker,’ Chet grinned. ‘Next to the house in Parish Addition in the early 60s is my accounting business where I am a success and have many employees,’ Chet marvelled. ‘When I turn my head, I am in the rest home with a nurse helping me eat my supper,’ Chet said sadly.

‘Well, we were playing Hide and Seek and God asked if he could play,’ Neva J said. ‘He laughed and said our adventure would reveal more than we had bargained for, and we would have more questions when the journey was complete,’ Neva J winked. ‘I have wanted to peek behind the Veil all my life, and suddenly we had the opportunity to do so,’ Neva J said. ‘The experience is like Deja vu with funhouse mirrors,’ Neva J explained. ‘There is peace behind the Veil,’ Neva J observed. ‘Behind the Veil reveals the many misconceptions we have had of death,’ Neva J said softly. ‘We are players on a great stage and the play never ends,’ Neva J spoke with assurance. ‘Our role in the Great Drama is a permanent one, it does not end with transition…it continues with profound purpose,’ Neva J said with tears in her eyes.

‘When I first looked behind the Veil, I felt I had been there before,’ Jane said. ‘There was mom and dad and all the memories of home…But I was living them behind the Veil,’ Jane questioned. ‘Was I in the Great Foyer of the Secret of the Ages…or had I been in it for my life and just now understood where I was,’ Jane asked?

‘The Great Doors fascinate me,’ Billy B said. ‘I do not remember coming in them, but I see people going out of them,’ Billy B mentioned. ‘Do you suppose it is the long hall of white light leading to Heaven?’ Billy B asked? ‘Is God at the other end of the brilliant hall with his arms outstretched and saying Welcome home, my child,’ Billy B postulated. ‘Or could it be you are a baby being born all over again…there is mom and dad and everything is new,’ Billy B smiled. ‘Are we looking for Superman and the Marvel Superheros, or are we surrounded by God daily and fail to notice our sense of place in his plan,’ Billy B said.

The great Doors opened slowly. ‘Who is ready for a terrific train ride?’ the Conductor asked. ‘In five minutes we depart for the answer to the Secret,’ the Conductor said with aplomb. ‘God is the Engineer and has been looking forward to our Holiday together,’ the Conductor announced. ‘Bring your furry friends with you as they will enjoy the journey,’ the Conductor said with a wide smile…

We are told that faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. Comforting words as we play hide and seek. We are actors in the Big Mystery. Where did we come from, and when do we leave? How could our world be so majestic and awe-inspiring by chance? Or…how could there be so much human suffering with a benevolent God at the controls?

‘I will count to 10 and you hide,’ Jane exclaimed. ‘I may peek,’ Jane laughed. ‘I like to read the end of a novel before I start it,’ Jane winked. ‘Be sure to hide where I can find you,’ Jane said.

‘I have always liked hide and seek, it is a mystery exercise,’ Chet mused. ‘There are so many places to become invisible to others,’ Chet commented. ‘Some nights Dad comes to me in my dreams and tells me that he will see me soon,’ Chet said softly.

‘Why hello there,’ Neva J said with a witty smile. ‘I was wondering when you would return here,’ she continued. ‘I have been puttering around in what seems to be a great foyer to a mansion,’ Neva J said with a smile. ‘Many people are coming through and then moving on out of the far doors at the end of the grand hall,’ Neva J said. ‘We all stop when we hear the bell that signifies God’s voice,’ Neva J informed. ‘It sounds like rushing waters and whiporwills to me,’ she said.

‘What is on the other side of the doors at the end of the great hall?’ Billy B asked. ‘Is that where the answer is to the Secret?’ he continued. ‘By the way, where is this Neva J?’ Billy B asked.

‘This is the Veil Room…we are behind the Veil,’ Neva J said. ‘This is where you come when you transition,’ she continued. ‘The people coming and going seem to be from all periods and centuries,’ Neva J said with a flourish. ‘I saw Kublai Khan and Mother Theresa walking hand in hand out by the coy pond the other day,’ Neva J grinned. ‘The Veil Room has no symmetrical limits, it is unending, but always the doors at the end of the great hall are in view,’ Neva J said with tears in her eyes. ‘Many live full lives in the Veil Room as they study infinity,’ Neva J noted. ‘They finally walk through the doors and we do not see them any longer,’ Neva J mused.

‘Time for supper,’ Neva J called out. ‘Tomorrow we will peek behind the Veil again,’ Neva J laughed a wonderful laugh.

Rain is a constant companion. We live in Dickensian times. Scrooge has all he wants, and Bob Cratchit shivers in the office. The miracles of capitalism are complete for a select few. Many ask for a crust of bread.

Stand in line for homage time. We owe our success to a select few. They must have their due. They love praise, and it is difficult to produce it fast enough. The need for approval is great, and the thirst is insatiable.

We are not doomed to repeat history; we rewrite it like a bad Play. A remake is in the works, and it will be better than the first. No more history of persecution of Native Americans. We Europeans were benevolent to the people here before us. We gave them select land. They have casinos.

Hitler won. He had stealth agents to take our country from within. Oppression is popular if you are the oppressor. It is good to be the King.

Slavery was on-the-job training. Kind landowners took African Americans under their wing and trained them in useful work. What a country of blond, blue-eyed super-humans. Now we provide sanctuary for the persecuted white folks who have not had an advocate until recently. Happy days are here again.

A little girl cries in the street. Hungry, cold, and nowhere to go. A little boy holds his sister’s hand. He is trying to protect her while he needs protection.

‘Bring in the clowns, we gotta have clowns.’The circus is in town. The poor sit in the cheap seats as usual. The new clowns are in town. Their humor is slapstick. Real pain is part of their new Vaudiville act.