Thursday, April 26, 2012

Jobless Americans in Her Muddied Mirror



I profess that I know nothing of the story covered by our local Fox news that was posted on Facebook today.  A caption for the picture of three police cars parked at a Burger King fast-food restaurant read:
Happening Now:  Not an HPD lunch break . . . a dude just got busted for allegedly holding up 3 fast food places.  Northeast Houston in the 9500 block of Jensen . . . SkyFox over the scene.    
This writing is not so much about that story; what prompted this writing was a comment posted by an individual, which reads:
Jobless Americans who seem to think everything should be handed to them!  UGH!  
That line has stayed with me since I first read it, and its author is the focus of this writing.
NOTE:  Before delving into this, please take notice that I do not condone any kind of criminal activity whatsoever; so before the reader jumps to that conclusion, declaring the writer to be a left-wing liberal who makes excuses for every out-of-mainstream, down-on-his-luck guy/gal on a corner, leave the lid on that can.
What bothers me is a person, who, from her photo, appears to be a rather young adult, taking on jobless Americans, making a wholesale statement that on its face is devoid of any degree of humaneness.  Her FB page indicates she is affiliated with a local high school, presumably a present or former student.   Speculatively, she is just out of high school, and I imagine a scenario in which she lives a reasonably comfortable life, courtesy of parents who assure that she is properly attired with fashionable garb and properly equipped with some technological gadgetry – at least a mobile phone to stay connected on Facebook.  Perhaps.  Or, maybe she has a job that allows her to live comfortably, dress decently, and afford some gadgetry.  Perhaps.  Or, maybe she is a trust fund baby, you know, a Paris Hilton wannabe who is content to live her life and not be concerned about the means by which she will acquire her next outfit, her replacement phone, the latest iPad, the next tank of gas or . . . her next meal.

She appears to be young.   Evidently she has not been around the block too many times.  Perhaps her short life has been a flat, straight line, uneventful in any impactful way,  rather than the twisted, knotted ones of those jobless Americans who were either:  1) laid off through no fault of theirs; 2) terminated with cause; 3) terminated without cause; 4) casualties of corporate mismanagement; 5) deceived retirees who lost their nest egg in Wall Street shenanigans; or 6) casualties of exported jobs or imported workers ... Perhaps neither has anyone who is responsible for her lifestyle and meeting her basic and extraordinary needs experienced a time of joblessness.  Sadly, perhaps she believes she is immune from joblessness, immune from want, immune from need, immune from hunger, homelessness, and nakedness.  How haplessly and utterly sad.  Perhaps she planned to live only in the very moment at which she post her jobless Americans drivel, seeing in a muddied mirror, her deluded superior, immune-from-negative-circumstances self.  Or, maybe unlike the rest of us, she knows her future is totally secure.

If I should have a moment with this young woman, I would tell her of someone of whom I knew, who was once wealthy.  I came to know him personally when all he had left was himself and a car with a clear title.  Or, maybe I would tell her of another, who was a diligent, dedicated employee with an unblemished record for three months shy of 20 years (at which time he could have retired), and was ousted on the whim of another for no reason other than it was doable.  Or, maybe I would tell her about this writer, who despite the framed crap on the wall of her home office, attesting to academic achievements (and no, she did not graduate at the bottom of her class) and professional credentials, was systematically rejected by employers for more years than the young woman has probably been alive.

I pity her, and people like her.  They are the ones who have more difficulty adjusting to the adversities of life.  Like one of whom I would tell her, she probably would not survive if any event upset the delicate balance of her most likely want-for-nothing existence.  What we would not know is whether it was a waste for her to breathe precious air in the first place, or a waste for her not to stick it out long enough so she would know what she could endure.



Sunday, April 22, 2012

Just a Grain of Sand, a/k/a Running Out of Gas in Houston, Texas

It seems lately that this writer has worn out words like glorious, wonderful, awesome, and, still, this blog entry must begin thusly: 


This has been a glorious day!  First, there was wonderful worship, then Sunday School (some people call that Sunday morning session where folks go into "classes" and talk about Bible stuff Bible Study, but I am of the other ilk.  It was Sunday School when I was a kid, and for me it is still Sunday School.)  After a few stops along the route to home, I prepared myself a decent meal, using Italian turkey sans pasta, awesome garlic bread from Barry's Pizza, fresh asparagus and an antipasta salad, chased with two dark chocolate chip cookies made with whole wheat flour and blended oatmeal.  Perhaps now I can get to the heart of this writing without repeating the words glorious, wonderful and awesome.


Getting distracted by a favorite word game this afternoon, I was 15 minutes late to leave for the final master's recital of a wonderful (oops) young lady with a glorious (oops again) soprano voice.  The car's information center indicated my DTE to be 22, meaning I could drive a distance of 22 miles before the gas tank was empty.  Surely, I thought, it's only 7 or 8 miles -- I'll be okay and will get gas after the recital.   Just as I arrived on the campus of the University of St. Thomas, the car stopped.  I tried to start it  Nothing happened.  I began to fret, but the thought that I probably had no gas danced into my head to haunt and taunt.  For someone with a "half tank" rule, running out of gas simply should never be an option.  Well, I blew it.  So there.


My options were simple:  1)  walk two blocks to the nearest gas station, purchase a gas can and gas, walk back to the car to dispense the gas, probably not without sloshing some on my hand for good measure.  After all, since I had run out of gas, it could be argued that I was already in my slapstick mode; or 2) call roadside assistance.   My body made the decision for me, reminding me that even on this beautiful, sunny, Sunday, it would give me grief if I walked even that far in the heat of the day.  Yes, for someone who lives with Sarcoidosis, even this wondrously, gloriously, awesomely beautiful day with a temperature less than 90 degrees, is HOT!  The fact is, I knew better than to try to make that walk, so I opted for number 2. 


I escaped the sun pouring into the car and took refuge under a tree that shaded me well.  As I stood there, enjoying the light breeze that assured my comfort, a couple of campus police, a guy on a bicycle, a couple in a van and a guy on his afternoon run (he offered to push the car out of the street while I steered!) stopped and offered to assist me.  I was reminded that His goodness and mercy are forever following me.  Even as I thought of this, relating to Pastor Steve Wells's sermon, yet another stopped to offer his help.  Then a woman stopped.  Then another woman.  In all, nine people stopped, asked if I was okay and what could they do to help.  Nine.  In just a few minutes.  Nine.


So, what's the big deal?  Simply, no one had to stop, including the nine who did.  They were a mixed bag of folks of all sizes, ages and colors.  And the nine were willing to stop, just for me.  In each of those nine folks I saw a little bit of my God.  He loved the world so much that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him will not perish but have eternal life.  And He sent His Son, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved.  (see John 3:16-17).  


This deal is big.  It is huge.  You see, the world is a big, big picture -- God's creation.  And on just one beach of humanity I am but one grain of sand.  In the big, big picture, I am but one dot of paint.  And even in my foolish negligence of ignoring my own "half-tank" rule, He sent nine of his folks to see about me.  Because He loves me.  Just as He loves you -- like there  is only one to love.  He showers us with His joy and peace each and every day.   His goodness and mercy follow me each and every moment.  Even when I foolishly turned my back on Him, He never left me.  He never leaves, nor forsakes me.  And why is that?  Because He loves me -- this single, solitary grain of sand on just one beach of many beaches of humanity -- this one miniscule dot of paint -- me. And, trust me, it is not that I am so special -- but that He is so loving.







Monday, April 16, 2012

The Marketed, Manipulated God :(

God is going to do a new thing!  Get ready to be blessed!
"LIKE" if you love God.
"RESHARE" if you love God, in 120 seconds He will do you a favor.


It was the last one that was the straw that broke my back.


If you believe what I believe, God, the One Whose name we cannot even properly articulate, is the creator everything.  The earth is His, and everything in it.  He created mankind (I refuse to write awkwardly just to be politically correct, but for the sake of the PC police, know that I man all humans without regard to gender when I say mankind), out of His love, giving  us dominion over the earth.  And what did we do???  We messed it up -- and we messed us up -- and quite thoroughly, I might add.   


Now, fast-forward a few millennia.  Here we are in the 21st century.  One would think that by now we would have figured out a few things, for instance:

  1. It rains on the just and the unjust (see Matthew 5:45).  Just because you're having a good time, that does not mean you are king (and yes, queen also) of one-upmanship over those of us who aren't.
  2. Your illness is not necessarily a satanic visitation.  Have you considered His servant, Job?  Or, have you considered that the white bread, hormone-enhanced fried food, Bluebell ice cream with 12% butter fat, processed meats extruded from some machine that makes perfectly formed loaves of God only knows what (and don't forget the pink slime), the fruits and vegetables you refused to eat, the 4-pack-a-day cigarette habit, the booze you boozed or all of those cookies and candy bars finally caught up with you?  
  3. Those prayers in which we thank God that we are on top of the ground and the ground is not on top of us . . . what's that all about?  Then we turn around and sing I've got my mind made up and I won't turn back because I want to see my Jesus some day.  I suppose we all just want to wait around for other the second coming -- and that would be some day.  No one is ready to die.  
  4. We are not guaranteed a huge house.  If Jesus didn't even have a fixed place of residence, what makes us so special?  (see Luke 9:58)
  5. AND . . . if we do have a huge house, that does not necessarily mean we are blessed and highly favored (consider the rich fool, Luke 12:13-21).  Of course, it doesn't mean that we are lousy people either.  The point is that your huge may be inconsequential.  
  6. Your clothes do not make you or set you apart as a child of God.  How many suits did John the Baptist have?  Jesus?  I'm just asking ...
I'm a big proponent of the KISS principal.  Considering how lame-brained mankind can be, there is something to be said for KISS.  Keeping it simple would relieve us of the hype, pomp and circumstance that folks buy into, trying to reach God through all machinations of catch phrases, conventions, programs and paraphernalia that do nothing but perpetuate mindless consumption of tapes, books and stuff, looking for an answer other than THE answer which was handed down -- well -- at least a couple of millennia ago.  We are forever using religion to reach God, when the religion pales in significance to the relationship God prescribes for us.    


So, why does God have to do a NEW thing?  He is eternal.  He was before there was a was.  He is here and now.  And He is in the future that perhaps our children's children's children will see.  He stands with one foot at the beginning of . . . well . . . the beginning -- and the other at the end of infinity.  Well, where is that?  How long is infinity?  How far can you go?   God is incalculable, unquantifiable.  If one is able to define God within human parameters, why bother believing in Him?  He would be no more potent or powerful than the one who can define Him.  


So, now, enter the Social Network.  There are great things about Facebook, most likely the premiere and dominant social network of the worldwide web.  This writer happens to appreciate Facebook.  It allows her to connect with people she knew in her childhood and grade school, distant relatives, people who share that dread disease Sarcoidosis, people who like word games like Words With Friends, people with whom she shares common interests -- like insurance, current events, the practice of law, writing, performing (especially music) and visual arts, and worship.  Yes, Facebook is great.  Then again . . . 


Why do you suppose that this omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient, all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful God, needs to be marketed and manipulated on Facebook?  Why must we LIKE Him to get a blessing in 120 seconds?  His blessings are perpetual, ongoing, never-ending.  From before we were expelled from her mother's womb, we were blessed with a place to gestate, be nurtured and grow.  Even as we read He is blessing us -- we are breathing, touching, seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling, feeling.  Even in our literate, quasi-sentient, semi-intelligent, idiosyncratic ways, He still blesses us.  Even while we grasp at straws, looking for some magic formula while denying the simplicity of His Gospel, He blesses us.  Even as we embark on greedy quests to amass the trappings of tangible and financial-but-long-run-worthless wealth and be the best at things that don't even matter in the big picture, He blesses us.  So . . . why the HECK do we need to click LIKE and be blessed in 120 seconds?  Do you think He is looking down to count His LIKES?   Is He your genie in a bottle, waiting for you to rub it and say the magic words?  Will He move at your command -- or should you move at His?


Alright, I'm just asking . . . .


Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, 20 and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.  -- Matthew 18:20


You may say click LIKE and He will do you a favor.  He said "go . . . and I will be with you."


I'm just saying . . .

A Note to Congress: By All Means, "Unfriend" Me!

This morning I awakened to a local Fox news segment regarding Roger Clemons.  Most of us remember Mr. Clemons, the former Houston Astros pitcher, who is headed back to Washington, D.C. to deal with accusations of lying to Congress.  


Congress.  I could think of a few other labels to affix to that mass of people who have become not only a drain on the country, but drained it.  Have you checked out their health insurance?  Their retirement plan?   Their salaries?  How they really spend their time?  Treat their staff?  I'm just asking. . . .


Back to Mr. Clemons:  Did he lie to Congress?  Perhaps he did; perhaps not.  Lying, generally, is not a good thing -- especially after taking an oath that one will tell the truth.  But, this little writing is not so much about Mr. Clemons as it is about the folks to whom he allegedly lied.  Those folks we call Congress -- the legislative arm of our federal government.  Why should Congress devote the time and energy into going after Mr. Clemons?  Why should Congress even be offended by the behavior of others that only mimics their own?


At this point I thought of including a litany of Congressional lies but got so bogged down in the fodder my research on that topic yielded that I just gave up, being unable to decide which to choose.  


Am I not defending nor condoning Mr. Clemons's infractions, whatever they may be.  However, Congress seeking to convict/condemn anyone for lying offends my sensibilities.  That a group of lying, drug & alcohol abusing, cheating, thieving, prostituting, pimping, manipulative, overpaid, self-serving, greedy, criminal, incompetent, prevaricators, who give themselves unmerited raises, supreme health care coverage, perquisites and benefits that the people for whom they work -- you know -- ordinary Americans -- do not have -- would take the time to call ANYONE on the carpet for doing what they do as a matter of habit -- is abominable.  Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!


(Note:  while specific members of Congress for which the paragraph above would be inapplicable come to mind, it is believed that, for the most part, it is applicable to a good number of those few hundred folks who have attempted to elevate themselves to a superior class of American -- something beyond ordinary.  The only thing worse is that so-called ordinary Americans keep electing these parasites.)


Oh, you find this writing offensive?  Oh, you're a member of Congress?  Fine, just give me a call and I'll tell you the part I couldn't put in print out of respect for family, self and the Hoxie name (it's kind of hard to hide  with a name like Hoxie -- if it were Smith or Jones or Johnson, I might be tempted), and genuine regard for my real friends.  And when you call, be prepared to give me your address so that when I see my doctor, dentist and chiropractor, visits to all now overdue, they will know where to send their bills.


And, if you're using Facebook to "reach out" to me, your constituent, and someone in your office 1) told me I am not on the voter registration rolls (ha!) and 2) complained about the half million people they have to deal with when I asked for assistance in dealing with a federal issue, and to whom I replied I am just one, will you please deal with me? -- I am NOT your friend, not even on Facebook, so UNFRIEND me and REMOVE me from whatever group you have placed me without my permission!