Truth is truth as we all were taught in school…but the reality is another matter. As I walked the streets of my hometown of Eldorado this morning I reflected on who I was 50 years ago when I lived there and how my life experiences have changed me. We wonder a bit why others can not understand life as we conceive it. They wonder the same about us.

Two people can see the same automobile accident and report it completely differently. As we walk under the same sky one of us sees a cloudless day while the other says it is too hot.

As a child in Eldorado when the Theatre Department McLeod Performers from Southern Illinois University would visit Hillcrest School I could not visualize what a wonderful place University would be. A few years later I became a member of the staff at SIUC and realized a big dream that I had harbored. The University students revealed to me how big the world was and the wonder and mystery of it. I dreamed of traveling to distant lands and reading the pages of Earth’s Book.

Eldorado gave a profound sense of place. A sense of place is important as you explore the secrets of life. No matter if you are in Edinburgh or Eldorado…all of us are hungry for understanding and purpose and the answer to…Why…

Each of our lives gives us different experiences. Those experiences form our view of community and in fact the world. We embrace what we have learned does not hurt us and we stand apart from that which seems separate from our perceived reality. Indeed the only way to understand your fellow woman and man is to get to know them. Breaking bread with another race or religion or ethnicity…and listening to understand rather than listening to reply…is the beginning of wisdom.

Our life is a bit like the three blind men who were asked to describe an elephant. One said he is like a snake…as he felt his trunk. Another said he is like a fence…as he felt the creature’s massive rib cage and the third said he is like a tree…as he felt the elephant’s leg. So…the only way that we will ever understand our sense of place on Earth is to seek and explore and reflect…

I remember when I was 39. I loved having one more year in my thirties. Today is Jonathon’s 39th birthday. I recall one of my favorite comedians Jack Benny typically answered when asked his age…39. 39 years ago today MJ, Aaron, and I were excited about his imminently joining the family.

Jonathon is a captivating personality. Once you meet him you never forget him. He seeks to make all whom he encounters feel welcome and appreciated. Jonathon is a Librarian. He loves the job. He is a voracious reader and a published writer. He is a Karokee Singer and a Trivia Master. He is the person his friends call on when they need a friend…

Jonathon is an artist of words but there is one word that he does not partake of…Gossip! When it comes to others he has no guile. I feel like I know his coworkers and friends from the lovely comments that he tells me regarding them.

Jonathon does not speak of his faith…he lives it…

Tonight it will be Toms Place and Pasta and much laughter and light hearts and deep memories of days gone by and of those to come…next year…40…

Jonathon and I were in the Cricket And Red Brick Antique Mall this morning and I said to one of the owners that before we knew what happened it would be July 4th. She told me to not hurry the year and I agreed. Time flows by like the rushing waters of Giant City Creek that I sat beside many days this past winter. Rhythm helps as our days have a bit of music about them as does our weeks and months and years. Addictive personalities…and let’s face it we all suffer some from this human characteristic… we are searching for an outside element that will give our day-by-day existence some additional spice…like a measure of extra salt or jalapeno peppers. The regular motion of the ocean that is carrying our little boat is seemingly mundane and ordinary and lacking in spice.

Ordinary days are what make up the majority of our lives. They carry us from babies to senior citizens and there is much to appreciate in each of them if you attune your ears to hear the symphonic music that they play. I love classical music. I have ever since I took a music appreciation course at university. Everything has rhythm and rhyme. That glorious feeling that you have when you awaken from a good sleep and the day is new and fresh as it was when you were young. The joy of your sense of place in your daily routine and the pleasure of thought. The pervasive peace of nature and inspiration of your surroundings. The hope and quest of understanding your mission and which path to take to attain it.

Have you ever been worried about a loved one or felt bad and wondered if you would feel better. Worry is a heavy weight to bear. It saps your joy and happiness. As it has been said the economy can be humming along but if you are out of a job…it is the Great Depression. Do you recall how light and free and full of purpose and life’s zeal that you felt when your worry was lifted from your shoulders or your health improved?

Our brains seek connection. The world makes sense to us when we are able to relate one thing to another or one happening to another that was similar. When life fits us…it rhymes. Like a family celebratory meal at Cunettos. When it is going well it is like living in a poem. It is easy to see the bright future and to understand how the past has brought us to our glowing present…

MJ and I were watching our favorite show, Succession, last evening. Suddenly the drama changed from the quirky wedding of the oldest son of Logan Roy to Logan’s death. It is the third episode of a ten-episode arch for this last season of the program. I kept sitting and watching and thinking that this must be a trick…surely the patriarch and the center of the popular show has not just died. But he had…in all of his earthly glory on his private jet and with his girlfriend who is half his age and his pronouncement in the prior episode to the news staff at his new corporation that is loosely based on Fox News…’We are pirates!’ Indeed the remaining episodes will be different in a fundamental manner. Logan was central to all of the stories. It was a bit unusual to feel a sense of loss for a dramatic character…but I did.

This is life. We are mortal and we feel that we will never end. When I was a young man one of my good friends told me that he believed that he would never die. We understand that everyone else is going to die…but surely not us…

Death makes life precious and special and unique. We know that we all have an ending. We suppose that it will be around 100 years old and we will be sitting in our favorite woods smoking a lovely cigar and slowly slipping from this world to the next in a seamless fashion.

Pastor Kerry preached a magnificent sermon yesterday for Easter. A full half of the message dealt with the practicalities of life and our dysfunctional relationship with death. As Kerry said, ‘We do not have a complete understanding of death because we only see it from one side.’

Life is meant to be lived and enjoyed and relished and immersed in. It is not something to shun or to be put off until a more convenient time. Now is the time! Every day can be lived as the surprise ending to our story. As when we least expect it…it will…

Immersion is the key. We often dabble around the edges of our great gift and never dive into the bottom of our sea to understand who we are and what we can accomplish. We are a tad bit afraid and we have enjoyed the shelter of our enclosed world. We hope for grace and truth and purpose…but we are satisfied with mediocrity and conspiracy and just getting by.

Grand Experiment is our calling and where we have been abruptly placed. We point to our challenges and our meager abilities while the angels say…’You can do it!’

‘So you are trying to tell me that he is not in the tomb…that somehow he has come back to life,’ said D.T. to M.M. ‘Well I went to the tomb before breakfast and there was an angel sitting on the large stone that had blocked the door of the space and he said he had left and gone into the city,’ M.M. said with a wide smile. ‘He died and we all witnessed his death,’ D.T. said emphatically. ‘My dad and my mom died and they did not come back from the dead,’ D.T. continued. ‘Yes but they were not him,’ M.M. replied. ‘How did he move the stone…two strong men and a little boy would not be able to budge it,’ D.T. demanded as if to jar her from her dream-like gaze. ‘The angel said that he did it…and that it was easy and took little more than a nudge to roll away,’ she answered. ‘Is he a bodybuilder…does he lift weights…does he do cross fit,’ D.T. demanded. ‘He said that he was sent by God…you remember God don’t you,’ M.M. asked with a wink.

‘My goodness what a strange feeling…have I been asleep…was I dreaming…I guess not as there are still holes in my hands and feet,’ he thought. I hope someone is caring for Mom, he thought. She loved for me to tell her a story before she went to sleep…I hope James told her a story while I have been away. I must go and see the group. They will be glad to see me. Boy…will they be surprised!

The angel told me that I would soon be leaving. I have to continue with the mission of my Dad. He said that not only did he want me where he is…but that he needed me. I heard that he was well pleased.

‘That is him I tell you…I would know him anywhere. He told me that he was coming back and would give me a piggyback ride,’ said the Young One. Suddenly the Young One was on top of his shoulders and they danced and hopped and skipped around the market square. ‘What did he say to you,’ asked the Old One. ‘He told me that I would not have to be afraid…anymore…

There was a deathly quiet. ‘I do not know what to think…he was my teacher and friend,’ he said. ‘I told him to lay low for a while and let the anger subside,’ she mentioned. ‘I wondered how he was going to pull it off…it seemed more than a man could do…even a talented man,’ he said as he mended his net. ‘He told me that he would have to leave for a short time but would be back and give me a piggyback ride,’ The Young One said. ‘When he spoke I could hear music,’ The Old Lady said. ‘I never heard a voice like his…he sounded like many waters,’ M.M. said. ‘He spat on the ground, made clay of the spittle, and put the clay on my eyes…I was blind before the clay…and now I see,’ said the Former Blind Man.

‘Tomorrow I fish…I do not know what else to do,’ said the Fisherman. ‘He said that he would rise again…but dead is dead if you ask me,’ said D.T. ‘You know at times he seemed as human as you and I until he began to speak of his Father and his Kingdom…then a transformation occurred and I knew that I was in the presence of greatness,’ John said. ‘The Religious Elders were going to stone me…I was so frightened that I could not catch my breath…he began to write in the sand and one by one they dropped their stones and walked away…he asked me where my accusers were…I answered that I had none,’ said the Woman. ‘The people hated me…I am a tax collector…I climbed up into a sycamore tree to get a better look at him…he called out to me to come down and that he was going to come to my house for lunch,’ said Z. ‘I was with him when he looked over Jerusalem and he was profoundly sad…as he often was,’ he said. ‘He understood me better than anyone that I have ever met…he loved everyone without judgment…he spoke of a Peaceable Kingdom,’ she said.

‘Well, I am going to the tomb to pray…Lazarus told me that he believed what he said about returning,’ M.M. said.

Everyone seemed to hate him. His friend kissed him on the cheek and the soldiers shackled him. How did it come to this, he thought. A few days ago everyone was casting palms at his feet and celebrating his entry into the City. Mom was beaming and Dad was proud. M.M. was smiling at him and he could see in her eyes her approval for his work. The blind man was there as well as Nicodemus and Zachius and Scribes and the Pharisees. They were nodding their approval and joining in the festivities. ‘When you are up…you are up,’ he said to James his brother.

What a struggle he had had with Big S. and his suggestions. They all sounded feasible and a wonderful alternative to what was coming. He recalled how his thumb hurt when he accidentally hit it in Dad’s Shop. The stinging pain had caused him to swear an oath and he wondered if he would do so again today. What a mission he considered. Hope for the hopeless and peace for those in conflict…and death as the reward for his labor. What a deal his Dad had given him!

Pilate had pleaded with his people to let him live…and they chose in a vehement motion of solidarity to let a thief live in his place. ‘Well that is alright he thought…I am no better than any other human.’ Blood streamed down into his eyes. His feet and legs felt like lead. ‘I can not carry it any further,’ he said. ‘I will carry it for him,’ said Simon. ‘My goodness that is a bit better,’ he thought.

‘There is Mom and Mary and I feel ashamed to be displayed in such a manner before them,’ he thought. ‘I am so thirsty…please give me a little water,’ he asked. The sky became dark as night and the veil of the temple was rent in twain…and he died as he said…it is finished…

It was a celebration…a Holiday… He hoped that he had gotten everything prepared…everything right. It was a familial/business meeting. There would be much to discuss. Things were going to change. Actually little would be as it had been.

What an interesting journey…what an exciting ride, he thought. Hope buoyed him…and he rode on the dreams of his friends. As they all came into the dining hall they were laughing and goading each other. They were a good group. Local boys and hard workers. They all wanted to sit near the boss. As always they were all ready for a glass of wine.

‘What did the boss say…take some bread and drink from his cup…for how long,’ the Big Guy asked? ‘I could not hear him as everyone was talking at once…and someone hollered to the matron and asked her when she was going to take the food order,’ the Young One said.

‘As he passed me the bowl of appetizers he said…I thought that he said…that one of us who dipped his hand in the bowl with him was going to betray him,’ The Old One said. ‘What did you do then,’ asked the Young One?’ ‘I jerked my hand out of the bowl and passed it on…I never cared much for appetizers,’ The Old One said.

He started singing. He liked to sing and he enjoyed his friends singing with him… The song was sad and soon everyone began to cry… except J.I. who sat silently and appeared deep in thought.

The temperature had plummeted fifteen degrees. It had felt like early summer and now it felt more like fall, instead of a warm shirt the need dictated a sweater and hat to accompany the ensemble. Life was simple enough for the poor and boiled down to the necessities and few luxuries. The kids were excited about Easter and the Easter Bunny, hiding Easter Eggs, and getting Easter Baskets. Mom had the rough choice of providing some fun for her children or paying for her monthly prescriptions. She chose to give those whom she loved a fun and memorable Holiday.

The Boy climbed on his mom’s lap as he did each evening and she read him an Easter Story. She read of Jesus and his love for all humans and how he healed the sick and fed the hungry. The Boy asked Mom why she seemed happy but her eyes were sad? Mom said that Jesus loved him, had been crucified, resurrected from the dead, and was forever alive. ‘How interesting,’ the boy said.

Easter came and mom and her boy and girl arrived at church for Sunrise Service. Their clothes were plain but adequate. They sat in the back pew and listened to the preacher. ‘Jesus forgave those who crucified him…his message was to do good to those who hurt you and to love everyone,’ said the preacher. Mom was losing her eyesight. The kids did not know. She read the stories from memory each night when the boy climbed onto her lap. She no longer could see the words. As the service ended and the many congregants walked out and on their way to Easter Brunch…the humble family waited so as to not be noticed for their poor garments. An old man was watching them from the dark corner of the church. He wore a Fedora and had a white beard. He asked Mom how she had been and she said not bad for an old lady. The Old Man laughed and tears came to his eyes and he gave her a balm. ‘Put this on your eyes when you arrive home…tell no one…

It was another day for most. Not so for her son. He had wanted to help people since he was a young boy. The other children regarded him as their big brother. He loved to work with his dad in his shop. He enjoyed fishing and of course, everyone did…but then so did his friends. Mom gave him a bedtime that he did not like very much. He had a girlfriend and she enjoyed hearing him tell his stories. He was a captivating storyteller. You could shut your eyes and soon you were transported to the location and the time of his story. He was surprisingly rooted and had a clear sense of place. Mom told him that he was special and that he had a mission on Earth. He wondered how that could be as he was a little kid and often got tired and felt sick and he hit his thumb with a hammer in dad’s shop…and he uttered a bad word…

Although he had years of experience in Dad’s Shop he planned to go into commercial fishing. He loved to catch fish. He and his girlfriend had plans to be married. They loved each other and she understood him…she was into him. He loved to walk through the hills. He loved people but he was a bit solitary and contemplative.

He enjoyed looking at clouds and the blue sky. He enjoyed camping with his dad and brothers. This is where he told many of his stories. People told him that he had a unique voice and that they enjoyed hearing him speak. He thought that his voice sounded a bit strange…but was appreciative of the compliments.

So many were following him. They hung on his every word. One time he helped to feed thousands of people. He was as surprised as anyone how the food had multiplied. He was at a wedding of a friend and they told him that they had run out of wine…he asked that they pour a fresh glass…and it was wine…

His best friend kissed his cheek and then the soldiers took him. He thought of his fiance and the multiplication of the food and the new wine. Mom told him that he had a mission…from God. He prayed…’Let this cup pass from me…not my will but thy will be done.’