Showing posts with label courage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label courage. Show all posts

Saturday, September 14, 2013

After Night #2 in Dallas... 30th High School Reunion

Thoughts on Night Two of the Class of 1983 High School Reunion

Blogging “real-time” from my 30th reunion has been fun, and I want to thank you, faithful reader for telling me you enjoyed my writing. Greater thanks to all the volunteers directed by our class officers who pulled off this amazing weekend.

After two nights on the story, there is still a little left to tell. With a wooden head and raspy voice, I sit back down to report the Class of 1983 is alive and well:

Again, love dominated the emotional mood last night at the Stoneleigh P. Although the crowd was slightly different, the vibe stayed the same: no one with whom I talked bounced around the truth with B.S. The sensible “three-day” process played out brilliantly; allowing all of us the opportunity to speak with many different classmates, and enough time to dig a little deeper.

The emotional notes of the evening were played with such care, reminding me of a virtuoso hunched over a piano: Coldplay’s Chris Martin, Peanuts’ Linus, or even Mozart. Delicately touching the keys, softly playing the notes of each other’s stories; it was a beautiful performance.

Scattershooting, while wondering where are Fronterhouse, Krebs, or Holmes, or Hamlin?
  • I heard about trumpets, toddlers, teens, and theology
  • I watched some very bored spouses, trudging valiantly through the hours 
  • Did you know about a couple of romances that just got started between classmates?
  • Talked about love and loss, and those who won’t be present tomorrow; like Patrick or Alex
  • Texas towns are as different as siblings, both very similar and yet independent; classmates came in from all over the state!
  • I learned about a couple of grandkids, and one lawyer’s ginormous billing rate!

I learned how expensive parking can be, and I even snapped a few pictures
One friend told me he probably wouldn’t have attended if not for reading my blog post from August 5th; and that made my trip worth the trouble. I got to thank him for what he showed me thirty years ago—and again last night: courage.
I suppose all the laughing and the loving will culminate tonight; and eventually I will pick my pen back up to try to write as I verbally wrap my mind around the experience; however, I can say it will be hard to capture the electricity, the inspiration, the joy this reunion has provided to the many who gathered in Dallas after 30 years.
I’m honored that you took the time to read so far, thank you for being kind enough to say so. The grace shown to me over the past couple of days has been heart-warming and encouraging. I hope to see you one more time tonight at the club; but if not, safe travels, may the long Texas highway rise ahead to meet you, and my hope is that you will stay in touch:  markpills@ymail.com

©Mark H. Pillsbury

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Fear

Our Constant Companion

Jesus repeatedly told his disciples and other people not to be afraid, yet humans deal with fear so often everyday that fear is almost our closest companion. As natural as breathing, apprehension can be a protective mechanism or a friendly motivator; but like food, too much makes us bulky and slow.

Like darkness invading nighttime, fear creeps into the day, ultimately blinding us from the reality of time. At the heart of each dawn is the possibility of a new day; however fear saps our joy and paralyzes our creativity. Can we be comfortable with distress like we are in our own skin, or will fear eat away at the soul, gradually corroding the mind from the inside out?

Constant Questions

We are constantly asking ourselves:
How do I look?
Do they like me?
Is she telling me the truth?
Am I late?
Did I forget about something?
Did I study enough?
Did I save enough?
How will I know what to do?
What’s going to happen to us?

Fear is even more basic than that; fear is connected to mortality, and the core question of our existence. We are afraid of other men, what will they think of us? We are afraid to die. We wonder after a certain age how much longer we have?

At the same time, fear gives us wisdom, discernment, perseverance, even intuition; in many ways it is our protective older brother but fear also takes charge and causes even the most rational to second guess.

Coping with Fear

Coping with fear is one of life’s greatest challenges. We sojourn to so many places in search for the miracle antidote. Fear is a toxic poison with deadly side-effects; it squeezes stress out of uncertainty instead of faith. Interpreting what John O’Donohue said, “stress is a perverted relationship to time,” I would add that stress is a perverted relationship to fear. Time and fear have overcome our daily routines, so that rather than being a subject of your own time, we become fear’s target and victim, lacking the control to stand up to these twin villains.

“For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God… for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power, love, and self-control.”
2 Timothy 1:6-7

Our Response by God's Grace

Instead of dismay, may I tremble at the Lord’s power to control the universe and his good intentions with my life and family? Rather than being overcome with anxiety, may I run to the biblical comfort of the Word made flesh, and rest in the admonitions of Jesus Christ? Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, but it is only the starting point. As we fall in love with the supremacy of God and the sovereignty of God, our peace grows to the point of resting in God and fearing no more the changes in our lives.

Without faith there is no meaning to life and no reason to conduct ourselves with courage in the face of fear. If death is merely a threshold onto another platform, and our hope is in a better place as we are promised in Christ, then we can dig deep into our well of faith and believe enough to push out the fear. This is done through the power of the spirit, with love and self-control.

©Mark H. Pillsbury

Friday, September 16, 2011

Reflections on Hurricane Ike

written September 16, 2008
©Mark H. Pillsbury

(Houston, TX) Aftermath of Hurricane Ike:


I watched Hurricane Ike come through the neighborhood from the comfort of a wing-back chair. Even though the storm windows on the front of the house performed flawlessly under heavy fire, the long night witnessing the storm’s destructive power was in retrospect, dangerous. However, the past few months have been times of both reflection and danger for me. Spending five lonely hours watching the eye-wall continue to pound our little street in Houston, I reflected on a stay in the hospital in 2007 wondering, “Why God brings difficulties into our lives?

John 15:2 Every branch in me that does not bear fruit he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit.

During trials, God prunes us like a tree, even though at the time pruning seems painful, it allows one to become stronger and able to produce more in the long term: to be more fruitful for His purposes. The concept of spiritual discipline is not very popular, but it is apparent to me over the last year how God’s providence in pruning can lead to better living.

The process of getting in shape is slow and painful. By gradually losing weight and eating right, God transformed my body; I not only feel better but my long-term health is improved. Daily pruning off bad habits, over the course of a year, not only increased longevity but gave me a fresh outlook on life. Even more, my family did not just witness this blessing but participated in it. During this period of change it was apparent that God is a faithful, but pruning God; constant like a rock but allowing our world to evolve. He is a God of change and hope and new beginnings (as Paul wrote to Ephesus, “You can start living an entirely new life, as a person regenerated…”). The Gospel gives us the chance at new life in Him if we believe by faith alone.

"It takes courage to push yourself to places that you have never been before....to test your limits....to break through barriers. And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom." –Anais Nin

Thoughts on my favorite tree

There is one tree in our front yard; a majestic southern live-oak tree that my old neighbor says grew from a solitary acorn. It was just me and my tree during that dark storm. Sheltered inside my house, I watched her fight with Ike all night long. The oak tree did gyrations and swayed in the wind, slapping, twisting and contorting in extremes I thought impossible to survive. At times the branches looked like strands of spaghetti, boiling in a pot, whirling like a dervish! However, after all the swaying subsided, there was only one branch hanging loosely from her limbs. There were many trees in our neighborhood with dozens of branches littering their yard, but not ours. If any neighbor could assess this tree like God can, in geological time, they would see it leap out of the ground and turn to the sun and spread its arms and bask in the joys of being an oak tree in Texas. (thanks, Marilynne Robinson).
"A dictator sees the truth as a matter or will; anything he says or dreams is the absolute truth and soon the people are forced to go along with him.
For the so-called democrat, the truth is the will of the people. Whatever the majority says is the law and that law becomes the truth for the people.
But for men like us, the only truth is the truth of the tree. All trees. Because the truth of the tree is its roots in the ground, and the wind blowing, and the rain falling. The sun is the tree's truth, and even if it is cut down his seed will scatter and those roots will once again take hold." --Tolstoy McGill

In the five years we have lived in our house we paid expert arborists to prune our lone live-oak twice. These were expensive and painful but all the unnecessary branches were taken away and the strength of the tree grew until she was ready when the real trial came. When light finally broke the horizon and the worst of Ike moved on, the large canopy drooped all the way down so her branches almost touched the ground. I never saw a living thing so tired from fighting, yet so proud to have survived. There was quite a scattered mess in our front yard, but the branches and limbs I cleaned up were not from the tree pruned, they were from trees not so well prepared.

Thoughts on the future of Houston

The city can take two paths during the aftermath. One is outward, blame-centered, and passive. The other is an active, self-sustaining, collaborative time of healing and growth over the next year, a chance at a new beginning. My hope is the city can focus on the priorities of its citizenry and prune away the petty arguments and wasteful bureaucracy hindering the execution of the city’s daily priorities. Many neighborhoods discovered unity after they were all leveled by the storm, living two weeks without power connected to their homes. The cooperative force of political leaders working together for provision of city services inspired the citizenry, and showed us the best purpose of government.


"The flight crowd is created by a threat. Everyone fleas; everyone is drawn along. The danger which threatens is the same for all. People flee together b/c it is best to flee that way. They feel the same excitement and energy of some increases the energy of others; people push each other along in the same direction. So long as they flee together they feel the danger is distributed..." --Elias Canetti (Crowds & Power 1960) [reminded me of *Hurricane Rita* when the whole city left and nothing happened]
Unlike New Orleans, this city has already rolled up its sleeves and started the entrepreneurial work that rebuilding and re-visioning requires. Instead of feeling sorry for ourselves, Houston begins the cleanup with the mindset that it could have been a lot worse; and we will patiently work until life is back to normal and the economic engines of this great city churn again. Like live-oak trees, all of us were severely pruned during Hurricane Ike, but this trial in the end will be thought of as a good thing. One day we will tell of how we rose out of the rubble and blossomed into a better place, one more fruitful for future generations.

If peace be in the heart,
The wildest storm is full of solemn beauty,
The midnight flash but shows the path of duty,
Each living creature tells some new and joyous story,
The very trees and stones all catch a ray of glory,
If peace be in the heart.

--Charles Francis Richardson

Friday, July 29, 2011

Rescue over the Rainbow (Part X)

part 10 of the storm chaser saga [fiction ripped from the headlines]:

©Mark H. Pillsbury

Rescue over the Rainbow (rating: PG-13)

Comparing these two free-spirits to some sort of weather phenomena would be too simple; a spring breeze blowing hard, unpredictably, and fresh; or a fierce hurricane gale with wet fury and the damaging ebb and flow of a storm surge. Weather metaphors don’t do justice to the mercurial ways of the two young storm chasers trapped in the east Texas wilderness during the massive wildfires of summer 2011.

Certainly they lived an exciting, romantic life on the road; except summers which were usually reserved for relaxation and retrospective of a successful spring of capturing tornadoes on video, preferably reminiscing with an icy-cold drink in their hand. The “long way” through Texas had proven to be an egregious error, one for which they might pay with their lives.

Jessica caught the breaks growing up, being smart, perky, and curious, the constant-learner of her friends, popular and yet more mature in many ways than her high-school crowd. She was beautiful but never dressed to draw in the boys like a siren; she was smart but never too cool or too busy studying to have fun with the rest of her gang. Her interest in weather came from Jessica's relationship with her father, who taught not be afraid of the big storms that raged through the Midwest, taking her outside even as debris flew through the air during a storm. His calm demeanor and respect for the power of God shown in nature was at the root of her curiosity, and it gave Jessica the confidence to study what could never be controlled or reduced to something stared at through a microscope. Meteorology was majestic, mysterious, meticulous, but at the same time it was grandiose.

On the other hand, Rick was the average all-American daredevil Oklahoma show-off, under-sized and a bit geeky for his contemporaries growing up in the rural state north of Texas. He never cared much for sports in a town ravenous for football glory, just one of the ways in which he felt misunderstood. He would sooner study on Saturday than waste the whole day in the scorching sun without being able to “move.” Even though Rick never really competed in sports, he was as mobile as a point-guard, aggressive as a middle-linebacker, and as swift as a soccer-midfielder attacking the ball. Rick poured his time into studying meteorology because he had a plan: follow big storms until he got close enough to record HD video, which he could sell like Blue Fin Tuna off Cape Cod, premium catch paying premium dollars.

There are thousands of so-called “storm-chasers,” just like thousands who think they can make money playing golf. However, being a “professional” storm-chaser takes the same stamina, will, and accuracy of a man who shapes a 7-iron tee shot from 200 yards, placing a tiny white ball on a postage-stamp green; with the cameras rolling! It takes skill, preparation, planning, intuition, courage, luck, and patience to go to the right point and wait for a hurtling freight-train without tracks to barrel toward your intersection when everyone else in the county is running for cover. Guessing the direction of a mesocyclone is tricky business, staying put so it comes to hit you square in the mouth is an act of bravado or insanity, whichever way you look at it. But Rick was willing to take just about any chance to nail the “money clip,” as they called the short snippet of footage networks and news agencies were willing to buy for large coinage.

They worked so hard together chasing weather for about a year that love had a hard time squeezing in between Rick and his mistress, Miss Tornado Alley. He sought the next storm with a relentless fervor, as if pursuing a lover. Jessica followed along as an able assistant, good at whatever she was asked to do; but never with the intensity of the president and CEO of T&A, Rick Tarleton, the rising entrepreneur of extreme weather. As they grew to rely on each other more, and when the money was short in the first few months, Jessica thought it was alright to stay with Rick in one motel room on the road. Infrequently they would also have a trail car of some OU-meteor buddies, the “subs” as Rick affectionately called them, however he would never let on that they were an item; she had to get her own room on those occasions. Their liaisons were physical and inconsistent, yet they deeply cared for each other in an immature way. They were too busy to define their relationship or really talk about what was coming next; which is why this vacation was pivotal in the evolution of their lives. Jessica was ready to take their connection to the next level, but she was uncomfortable with an existence on the road chasing tornadoes.

She felt some independence with the extra pay she received doing the weekend weather on the local FOX TV affiliate, channel 25. It was nice being a small-town celebrity, but how much creativity went into reporting Oklahoma weather? Really, it was hot for so long, then bitter cold reigned for 3 months bringing some snow, finally the excitement of spring showed Okies the only extreme weather drama they could see in a year. Once again, her reporting returned to the dust-bowl heat of the 6-month drought known as summer. Jessica wanted people to be happy, so she treasured the few times when her enthusiasm for weather was a positive force in the community on a beautiful weekend. She enjoyed telling her neighbors to go out and make it a great weekend when she knew the weather would cooperate, and just the fact of her being on TV made her, unnatural as it was, bigger-than-life. Jessica treated that role with honor and respect, like a rainbow. Maybe in the background, Rick was a little bit jealous.

Their mission was to slowly make it to the new cruise ship terminal at the Port of Houston known as Barbours Cut, then taking a “party boat” out into the Caribbean Sea, where Rick and Jessica loved to scuba dive. It gave them the same thrill as chasing God’s creation above the ocean surface. Stopping in Liberty County was a chance detour, but Rick wanted to see his cousin Clay who had some land, a pond on which to fish, and a small bunkhouse. The wildfires were uninvited guests. Actually, they listened to country music driving down through east Texas, and did not pay attention to the headlines about the massive Texas drought or the local fire plague. This was a lazy time of year when they both decided to “unplug.” As quickly as a tornado strikes an unsuspecting town asleep during an unstable spring evening, wildfires have consumed over 3 million acres of Texas forest almost 16 thousand times in separate incidents of reported fires. Almost every Texas County had a burn ban, rural areas a tinderbox for indiscriminate flames.

Strangely, Rick used none of the tools of his previous success reacting to this emergency. Clay was forceful and confident but ultimately he did not stay together with the team during the most critical time of their escape. Jessica, dutifully compliant and contrite until overcome by smoke and exhaustion, was this tragedy’s character least likely to take risks or ignore the danger in which they found themselves. Wildfires seem isolated and small compared to a tornado’s fury, but their lack of respect for the power of fire put them in a compromised position: it was like someone thinking that staying underneath a beach umbrella will keep them from getting sunburned; at the end of the day, without sunblock, the heat, pain, and burning sensation can ruin a vacation!

This was the same consistently smart, diligent, serious young lady she had always been, even though Jessica had avoided dozens of close scrapes with menacing threats over the years since the tranquil days at OU. Inexplicably, she found herself boarding a yellow fire helicopter with her boyfriend Rick, lacking control, disoriented by the past few hours of running, and weakened to the point of giving up; however, even at the last minute as she boarded, Jessica flashed her 1000-watt smile to the pilot which gave him the little boost of courage he needed to perform under such harrowing circumstances, under which he had never before flown. Finally, everything was going to be alright. They were rising upward, soaring, pulling ascendant against gravity to the heavens, away from the fiery furnace below.

to be continued in chapter XI...

©Mark H. Pillsbury (2011)


[Legal disclaimer: no part of this blog, any idea, line of fictional characters, or publication of written materials (a/k/a "intellectual property" or IP) may be reproduced or retransmitted in any form. It is arguable whether in fact, any permission in advance is even possible within the legal "fair use doctrine." The full extent of the law may be used in defending copyrights and trademarks, if necessary. Therefore, copying, quoting, crediting, or any reference to this IP, is permissible only under certain circumstances but should be done carefully after consulting legal counsel. Thank you, but a lawyer friend suggested this could be a problem if the storm chaser saga really went viral, or "caught fire," pardon that pun. You gotta keep your sense of humor when dealing with the Law?]