I Dreamed of Jeannie, With the Light Brown Hair...

Yesterday while on a mini working vacation, Charlie and I slipped away from Hilton head Island and drove 50 minutes to Savannah. We wanted to see the old historic city, and  go to Paula Deen's restaurant. Friends told us it would be a shame to be so close and not get a taste. So we went, and both the town and restaurant lived up to its press. Paula has a little shop connected to the restaurant where she sells linens and cookware. I went in to look around and my eyes immediately spied very unique spatulas with wooden handles and colorful chickens. My heart jumped – my sister Jeannie would've scooped those up if she had been there. For years she had decorated her kitchen with chickens and had no intention of ever changing it. So I bought spatulas for her two daughters and for our two sisters in love. I thought they would appreciate them as I did.

When we came back to our rental home, Charlie and I had a great full evening. We worked, laughed, talked, played Scrabble (he beat me AGAIN), and around 11 I went to bed. Even though I was tired, sleep eluded me. I sat in bed and read and wrote for a couple hours and then fell asleep for a while, woke up again and read some more, fell sleep again around 4:30. And then I dreamed of Jeannie. I hadn't been thinking of her, I wasn't feeling sad or lonely, but I had such a vivid dream, I will never forget it. Jeannie came.

She was so happy and beautiful. She was in the kitchen of the house where we are staying, washing a few dishes. She held one of the chicken spatulas in her hand. She told me how she loved it, and that her greatest memorial would be the people she loved doing the ordinary things of life, loving them too, and remembering her as they did them.

I don't believe I ever said anything. I was overcome with awe and joy, but there was no awkwardness or discomfort in my silence. I wish I could get it down in perfect detail. When I awakened, I started writing immediately to try to capture everything as accurately as I could.

She told me to tell her girls to always love Christmas... that she had known that Christmas 2015 was probably her last Christmas on earth, and she had packed all the decorations away with special love for them, wanting them to treasure them, and always feel close to her.

She said she loves all of us dearly, and it will be such a little time until we are all together again – don't be sad. Then she said she couldn't wait to get back home. She meant her new home, and we both knew it. Just like that, she was gone and I was awake.

I don't know what you think about that. But it seems very real to me. I am so grateful. This vacation, I dreamed of Jeannie with the light brown hair, and it was God's great vacation gift to me.

BE STILL, MY SOUL

                                                                                    At 6 am on January 12, 2011, 

the one year anniversary of the Western Hemisphere’s most devastating natural disaster in history, I was in one of the countless tent cities, Delmas 6, with Kendra Luna as she met with a few leaders of the displaced people there.  The sun was rising, but nothing could alleviate the bleakness of the place. I was fighting back tears, continuously trying to swallow down the huge lump in my throat…wondering how people get the courage just to wake up, let alone actually face life in these squalid, dangerous, humiliating circumstances--no privacy for even the most personal tasks. To my right a young woman, perhaps 20 years old, was facing a partially fallen block wall. Clothed only in panties, she was using a pitcher of water to bathe herself. I quickly averted my eyes, trying to help maintain a bit of privacy and distance in her broken, exposed world.

My heart ached. How could there be hope in this place? How did these people crawl out of such deprivation to face the world with courage? How do the pastors minister to these people? What can be said?  “My God, my God—why have you forsaken this place? Have you turned your eyes from these people? What can they do to go on?”

A moment of utter silence. A moment of bleak pain and heartache. Despair threatened to overwhelm. Then, 1500 voices wafted through the air to where I was. They were singing at the large Free Methodist Church, a few blocks away, to start the day. I don’t speak Creole, so I couldn’t understand the words. But I knew the song. It was a hymn I had learned in childhood, a song a had heard my own mother sing on many days as she cared for children, washed and hung laundry, and faced the various challenges of her day.  “Be still, my soul—the LORD is on thy side!”  My heart sang along. My soul was comforted and strengthened. I was reminded how every Christ follower in every culture, day, and time gets the courage to go on. We quiet our souls and let the Father speak to us.

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on your side.

                    Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;

                    leave to your God to order and provide;

                    in every change He faithful will remain.

                    Be still, my soul: your best, your heavenly friend

                    through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: your God will undertake

                    to guide the future, as He has the past.

                    Your hope, your confidence let nothing shake;

                    all now mysterious shall be bright at last.

                    Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know

                    the Christ who ruled them while he dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on

                    when we shall be forever with the Lord,

                    when disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,

                    sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.

                    Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past,

                    all safe and blessed we shall meet at last.

The Worth of One Word

Dwell. Execute. Believe. Poise. Balance. Intentional. Faithful.  These are just a few of the "one words" that I have heard in the last few days. People choosing one word to characterize the over arching goal for life and character development though their new year.

It always amazes me what happens when, during a season of life, we thoughtfully select a word to be the scaffolding for the life we build during that time. For instance, late last summer and through the end of the year, I experienced some of the stormiest weather spiritually and emotionally I have known. Besides all the normal challenges of busy ministry life, helping care for an elderly father, and too many side jobs to mention, we were opening a multi site/adopting a church. A week before our opener, I had ankle surgery which grounded me indefinitely, and a few days after the surgery, an emotional earthquake spiked my emotional Richter scale. My beloved sister, my best friend for my entire life, died suddenly without warning. Her memorial service was the same Sunday we opened our new church. I was physically, emotionally, and spiritually disabled. I generally self soothe with activity. Post-surgery, I could do none. A much smaller pain, but pain nonetheless, occurred the week after Jeannie's service. We had to put our little furry friend Spike to sleep. He had been our pet and companion for 15 years.

I had been anticipating vacation all summer. But when it was time to go to the beach, so close to my surgery and just the weekend after Jeannie's death, I didn't want to go. I felt completely battered by the winds and waves of life. I am typically a very motivated person, and having absolutely nothing that I anticipated was strange and alien to me. It seemed I had experienced numerous losses,  and the me I knew was one of them.

My word in this time period was "tethered". To tether means to connect a movable object to a stable, unmovable object, restricting movement to protect or make productive. I wanted to be tethered to God so I could live wisely and productively. In this season of life I was enabled to see what God was doing in my world on my behalf, and my word took on a whole new dimension to me.

I was staring one day on vacation at the beach, rather mindlessly considering docked boats bob and bump up and down in the choppy water. But no one was worried – the boats weren't going anywhere. They were tethered to the dock. They wouldn't get lost. They were connected to the dock, and the dock supports ran deep and sturdy.

Jesus spoke tenderly to my heart. I saw myself in a new way. I was one of those boats. The waters were choppy. I was in the middle of the storm. But I had no cause to worry. I would not accidentally get lost. I would bob up and down in the storm, I might become nauseous and seasick with the intensity of the storm, but I would certainly not get lost. I was tethered to the original immovable Force. My connection to him was protecting me, and out of this experience would come great productivity. I didn't have the energy to hold on, but I didn't need to. Before the storm began, I was tethered to Jesus, the Storm Walker. Even the winds and the waves obey him. My one word allowed me to rest in peace and safety during the storm. Of course I still had pain. But I didn't worry anymore. I wouldn't be lost.

One word gave me focus in a way I could have not imagined in the midst of my deepest pain. What's your one word? Focus on Jesus developing you in that direction. You'll be surprised what he does.

Fresh Sheets and a New Year

I love the feel of clean, cool,  crisp sheets. Slipping in between them makes me feel a little fresh and new myself. I love the feel of a fresh new year the same way. I feel hopeful, new, and clean in a way I feel no other time.

The new year is a great time for me to think new thoughts, pick up new habits and directions, and strengthen good ones. I'm going to share over the next few days some things that are helping me. Maybe they will stir something helpful in you, too. If you give some thought and prayer to your hopes, desires, and needs in these early days of 2017, you can work with God to shape your life.

MY ONE WORD: I have found that replacing resolutions with just one word that represents what I believe I most need to work with God to accomplish in me forces clarity and helps me truly focus my efforts. God works with me to transform my character and make me more like Jesus at a sustainable level. It bleeds into every area where I need change, and impacts all of my life. My ONE WORD for 2017 is INTENTIONAL. I want to live my life on purpose, by decision, not by default. What's your word?

MY VERSE FOR 2017: "Be very careful, then, how you live--not as unwise,but as wise, making the most of every opportunity." Ephesians 5:15  What's a verse that affirms your word?

MY PROMISE FOR 2017: "Being confident of this very thing, that he who began a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ." Philippians 1:6  What's a promise from God you need to count on all year?

MY ONE SENTENCE PRAYER: "Father, complete what you started in me."  What short prayer expresses the most consistent desire of your heart?

If you write them out and read them every single day, these words will sink into your soul and shape you. Words and thoughts have power. Use them well and wisely. Happy new year!

Dad's Last School Speech

James Mason is my dad. It has been his joy for many years now to share his experience and love of country at a school assembly on Veteran's Day. This year, at 94,  he decided that it was time to let that go.. But he wanted to send a paper with a few details of his service on it so they could still hear from one of the few remaining soldiers from "the greatest generation." Here is what he sent them.

JAMES L. MASON.101^st Airborne, US ARMY, WW 2

It was my privilege to serve my country in World War 2, and my privilege now to share my story and that of my brave comrades with a new generation I hope will love this great nation enough  to serve when they are called upon as well.

In April 1939, almost ten years after the Great Depression began, more than one in five Americans still could not find work. I joined the Army in 1939 in order to have a little money. I signed up to go to Hawaii. The war hadn’t started for us then, but I can’t tell you how proud I felt the first time I was on the parade ground. The band played “Stars and Stripes Forever” while we marched up and down the field. It seemed like I grew 6 inches that morning. I was so glad God led me to unite with the United States Army and serve our great country.

PEARL HARBOR

I was stationed at Fort Shaftner in Hawaii. On December 7, 1941, early in the morning, the Japanese carried out a sneak attack on Pearl Harbor. That morning, my boss had requested that I take his car to drive his wife to her job. I drove her in towards town, and about 7 am we arrived in the parking lot of John Rogers Airport. John Rogers Airport, just about 7 miles from Pearl Harbor, was attacked by a large force of Japanese planes.  I could see them coming from the east in my rear view mirror to attack the ships in the bay. At this time they hit the ship Missouri and destroyed it. Because of that, over 1000 men are still in a watery grave.

We saw the smoke and planes, so I immediately turned back and went back to Ft. Shafter, about 11 miles back.  When I got there, women were in their nightgowns and robes, and enlisted men and officers were all on the parade grounds, watching the confusion, trying to figure out what was happening. Japanese observation planes with the symbol of the Rising Sun painted on their sides were swooping in so low, I could see the pilots, and even the goggles on their faces.

At the very time of this attack, Japanese officials were having a council meeting with our leaders in Washington, DC. It was such a betrayal. This is why all history books call it a “day that will live in infamy.” Because of this horrific attack, the United States was plunged into the war. This was so impacting on our entire nation. More than 2500 soldiers dies in one day, more than 1000 more were wounded, 18 American ships were damaged or destroyed, and 300 airplanes. It was a deep wound. In fact, about a dozen years later, our nation still hurt from the many losses of brothers, fathers, and sons. A young Japanese student was ill and stranded in the small town with no place the stay in the small town where I pastored. My family and I opened our home for him to recuperate. A member of the community expressed the sentiments of many when he said, “Mason is surely a better forgiver than I am. I would never let a Japanese man in my house.”

That experience led me to Officer’s Candidate School, and to paratrooper’s training. I was part of the Screaming Eagles, the 101^st Airborne. The training was very difficult—we started with 200, and ended up with 103.

WINSTON CHURCHILL

Our regiment was requested to jump for Winston Churchill and the other senior staff. We were placed on a hill somewhere in England to be viewed by Churchill and his group. We gathered to positions. Half would jump and the other half would stand would stand at attention, waiting for Churchill and the group to review them. After Churchill reviewed us, our commander told us we could break ranks. We gathered around Churchill’s jeep to hear him. He stood in front of us on the passenger side of the jeep. We gathered around quickly and placed ourselves as near him as possible. I was so close to him I could have reached out and untied his shoelaces.

That man was so inspiring. He spoke with great compassion about the suffering in Europe and passion about all the people who had been hurt by Hitler. He told us how much the free world was counting on us. With hot tears running down his face and cheeks, he spoke with urgency. “We have the tools to win the war, but we need your help. Can we count on you men?”

 

He was asking us to make a commitment. I sensed in my heart this was right and I made the commitment: “I am willing by God's help to do my best.”

About 2 weeks before we would jump in Normandy, they moved us into a marshaling area with a barricade around it so no one could leave. They had built a sand table as large as a room, the exact replica of the place we were to drop in Normandy.  Houses, railroads—they all were on there. The airplanes would fly over and take photographs, and anything that changed, they would change on the sand table so we knew how to best land. We trained, played cards, wrote home to our loved ones, and tried to keep  each other cheered up.

D-DAY, THE JUMP

After about 12 days there, it was time to board the troops. General Dwight Eisenhower came and encouraged us before we boarded at about 8 pm. There was no laughing and joking on the plane. The men sat with heads bowed, thinking about their families and home and what might transpire in the next hours. When it was time to jump, we had to run out the door of the plane, only seconds between us. There were 35 in our platoon, and we all went together; 17 on my plane. I only saw 11 of them again. We dropped out around midnight over Carentan, France,  south in the Normandy peninsula.  We were to guard the bridge there. But the air was red with tracer bullets. Planes were being shot down and burning and it was raining. It was a terrible night. We had a jump area, but now we couldn't fire because it was so dark. The pilots had to scatter the planes to keep us from getting shot down.

So we were very scattered and disorganized  when we landed. We had to find each other,  and to do it, we had a little toy cricket. We used to get them in Cracker Jacks. Walking around alone in the dark, if we heard a noise we would click the cricket. If it was an American, he would click his back and then say the password, which  was an American cigarette, like Marlboro. When someone clicked back, I would say, "I'm Lieutenant Mason, 101st Airborne. Fall in."

That's how I gathered up men. The men were from different outfits because of the scattered planes. I was only 21 years old. I've been asked many times if I was scared. Yes, I was scared. I was scared all the time I was in the war, but it didn't paralyze me. Even though I was scared, I did the best I could. I did what I was supposed to do. I remember walking across the field at one point in the pitch black, and I clicked and heard the other person clicking back to me. As we drew close, I saw it was my immediate supervisor. He was my idol. I ran up and hugged him. He didn't say anything, but his presence reassured me. I thought, "We'll be all right now."

June 7---It was a terrible night. Many died, but many of us lived to fight another day.

This was the area that the story "The Longest Day" comes from. We liberated many homes, and drove off many Germans. But on June 21, I was wounded in 11 places, and my arm was severely damaged. I looked down and saw white bones sticking out in two places. My leg was shot. I had enough presence of mind to take off my belt and put a tourniquet on my arm before shock took over. A piece of shrapnel the size of a hen’s egg had entered my side and stopped right before my liver. I was operated on in a tent field hospital right on the front line. I woke  to witness 2 German first aid men pick me up and carry me on a stretcher to an ambulance that eventually got me on a plane to Winchester, England. I was in the hospital for six months there, and then I went back to limited service for the remainder of the war. I received a Purple Heart.

I am proud and grateful to have served my country.