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Welcome to the ‘Whispers and Wonders’ journey journal– The whispers that started me on a forty-year adventure in ten countries– and the wonders– continue! There are previews and links to Peruse Bruce’s News and Views, Tipserve Twitters, and photos sites in the right column and lots more informations in the tabs above.  Fishing Boats in Yaizu, Japan Harbor This year … This year … This year … This year … This year … This year … [via an email from Irene- thanks]
For God so greatly loved and dearly prized the world that He [even] gave up His only begotten (unique) Son, so that whoever believes in (trusts in, clings to, relies on) Him shall not perish (come to destruction, be lost) but have eternal (everlasting) life. (John 3:16 Amplified) Christmas was a surprise. The King came as baby in humble circumstances. Jesus’ life was a surprise. The main power He offered was in accepting His words. Easter was a surprise. Death and sin were defeated by life and love. Jesus’ own disciples didn’t understand, so you could say that the first Easter was a re-birthday surprise party for the disciples. Over 400 of the early followers of Jesus saw Him alive after His resurrection and, filled with joy at the meaning of the gospel– the message of the triumph of life over death– they began to fill the world with the Good News. “Do you know what Easter means, honey?” In her own sweet three-year-old way, with arms raised, a smile on her face, and at the top of her voice she said, “Surprise!” What better word could sum up the meaning of Easter! Surprise, death! Surprise, sin! Surprise, mourning disciples! Surprise, modern man! He’s alive! — James S. Hewett, Illustrations Unlimited
Not keeping up this blog has frustrated me. Teaching English classes and teaching Andrew at home have almost totally absorbed my attention lately, with the few spare drops of free-time soaked up with reading the news, checking my mail and, recently, Facebook. The time and energy spent on Facebook has been great for getting better connected with my family. However, I now realize that this motivation to communicate with my loved ones was what kept me blogging faithfully. I really enjoy blogging, so I needed to find a way to do both. First, I evaluated what has been devouring my hours, munching my minutes and sucking away my seconds. The next big use of my free time was the website ‘Lifehacker‘ and related articles and links– all in the name of living better and faster and yes, ‘saving time’. ‘Good, better, best. Never let it rest. ‘Til your good is better and your better is best.” St. Jerome Of course, some of it was work related, but a great deal was just thirsting for knowledge– information overloading, brain stuffing. As Solomon said, three thousand years ago, “Of the making of many bytes, there is no end; and too much data burns the brain.”– or something like that. I needed an kind of an informational Noah’s ark to save me from the data-flood– like the round, red one that goes ‘brr-ring’… pictured above. While setting up Andrew’s curriculum and schedule, I found and tried a few methods to increase his focus, concentration, self-evaluation and motivation. Simply put, to get more done in less time– just what I needed too. One method seemed to be just what we needed, “Pomodoro”, Italian for ‘tomato’– named after the tomato-shaped timer used by the developer of the system. The idea is to set a certain number of set periods of time (25 minutes is suggested and what we use) for uninterrupted work, followed by a short break. There’s a lot more to the planning and record-keeping and do’s and don’t's, but that’s basically it. Forcing myself to schedule all I do will, I hope, limit the attacks of the black hole time gobblers when my will is weak. If I’m at least partially successful, you should see my regular posts come back to life. Stay tuned. Bruce If you are interested in how it works, you can find the details here and here — where you can also get a free PDF of his book.
This same flood of memories happened to me some months ago, when a separate series of bombing racked that city– for we once sang at one of the bombed hotels. Although it has been over twenty years since the five years I spent in India with my family, the memory of a particular Christmas Eve has never left me. Several of my own children, plus a couple others, had finished the second of two thirty-minute sets of Christmas songs in the lobby of an international hotel. We asked the children, “Well, should we go?” “No, please, one more time.” The faces of international airline crews checking into the hotel may have had something to do with their wanting to stay. The crews looked tired and uninspired as they entered– forced to spend Christmas day away from home and loved ones as there were almost no flights out on December 25. However, their expressions quickly passed to surprise, warm relief and brightness as they stopped and even sang along. The interaction between the performers and the audience created an electric, energy-filled atmosphere that seemed to sustain us– fuel poured on our motivation to keep going– spreading the oft ignored true meaning of Christmas. ‘One more time’ repeated itself throughout the evening– just as it had every day for a week or more. The children would seem to come to the end of their strength, but would suggest, “Can we just drink another lemon-water* and go one more time?” (*Highly carbonated bitter-tasting bottled mineral water was usually the only safe drink available– but a pinch of salt took out some of the carbonation and some lemon and a spoon of sugar made it palatable.) Another special memory of that evening occurred when we noticed that a businessman seated across the lobby was gently sobbing. An member of our team who approached him heard him saying, “They’re so good; and I’m so bad.” He explained that he was moved by the pure love that he could see in the children’s performance and then prayed with our co-worker to receive God’s Christmas gift– Jesus– into his heart. Our personal remembrances, fun and enjoyment are also important and have their place as we celebrate Christmas, but by focusing on opportunities to share God’s precious gift of love to the world– our own joy is multiplied. As in Saint Francis’ prayer– it is in giving that we truly receive. I pray that you have a wonderfully happy Christmas dear friends – With love, Bruce (Photos circa 1987 of my children: Ruth, Phil, Priya, Brant, Chloe and Amy) P.S. I’ve posted some photos updating my current location and activities here:
Mountains are never too far from my mind, since I can just glance out of my window and see the beautiful Japanese Alps. Twice weekly I pass through a tunnel under another mountain to where the the beautiful Yatsugatake range pictured above– points like an arrow to the highest Japanese mountain, Fuji. A series of recent events focused my mind even more intently on mountains.
No, not just ’cause you’re the only one I’ve had ‘Cause over the years my sincere appreciation Has grown to be more than just an estimation For of certain memories, which never seem to fade It’s just my perception that’s changed, of sacrifices made For since I too have tread the path of a dad I can no longer view you from the eyes of a lad. Yes, it’s more than genes that make a father Otherwise we’d have just said, ‘Why bother?’ Why bother sacrifice or try to inspire? Especially when teens their dads try to fire? So an overdue ‘thank you’ for when I was a pain You endured through those years without going insane OK maybe you did flip, a time, maybe two But I can understand, ’cause I’ve been there too Yes, dads don’t get the credit that they really deserve But I think in Heaven there will be a big reserve Where there will be ‘thank-you’s and lots of understanding For those heartbreaks and sacrifices– for performances outstanding But a portion I’m acknowledging now, while we’re still here ‘though the half that you’ve done, I don’t know, I fear ‘Though it’s not much, it’s my way To to my dad, to say, ‘Happy Father’s Day!’
[Yep, that's me, with my dad-- circa 1953]
A boy came home from school one day carrying a note from officials suggested that the parents take the boy out of school, claiming that he was “too stupid to learn.” The boy’s mother read the note and said, “My son Tom isn’t ‘too stupid to learn.’ I’ll teach him myself.” And so she did. My mother was the making of me. —Thomas A. Edison (1847-1931), Inventor
When Mother Teresa received her Nobel Prize, she was asked, “What can we do to promote world peace?” She replied, “Go home and love your family.” The thing that makes a mother wonderful is that self-sacrificial spirit that is willing to sacrifice her own time and strength and even her health, if need be, for the sake of her child. —David Brandt Berg (1919-1994) The hand that rocks the cradle– Is the hand that rules the world. —William Ross Wallace (1819-1881), Poet and Songwriter
Shall I tell you where and when? On the maps of the world you will find it not; ‘Twas fought by the mothers of men. Nay not with the cannon of battle-shot, From a poem by – Joaquin Miller (1839-1913) Photos, in order, daughters Amy, Ruth, Chloe and Aiko with some of their eleven children. Happy Mothers Day!
Although I missed posting this on Valentine’s Day, here’s a trilogy of poems I wrote for a friend in China on the eve of her departure to attend a University in Canada. We’d spent hours talking about love and what it means to be free… Find Freedom
On Freedom’s Path
Love Found
Poems © 2003 tipserve.com “You teach the Bible”– a young woman asked, “Are you teaching reading?” “No”, I explained, “The Bible is an amazing book that I help people to study” She looked a bit mystified, so told her how the Bible was written over many centuries and contains stories, beautiful poetry, accurate history– like that of Jesus’ life– and much more, including predictions. It took a while to explain to her the meaning of ‘predictions‘, but then I continued, “Some of the most amazing of the Bible’s predictions foretold the coming of Jesus– In amazing detail, foretelling the manner of His birth, death, life, and ministry.” “Jesus?” She responded– And I realize that she hadn’t made the connection. “Iesu-kiristo– Jesus Christ”, I told her, giving His name in Japanese and English. She understood, then asked the meaning of His name. I explained that Jesus was not an uncommon name then– it meant, God Saves. Christ was Greek for anointed one. In Hebrew, Jesus was the Messiah the savior promised in writings by Jewish prophets for hundreds of years. Our conversation continued, but I was impressed by this exchange how, although Japanese are, to varying degrees, exposed to quite a bit of Western culture and history, they know far less than I often assume– about the book– the Bible, and the person– Jesus, that have shaped me, Western culture and, in fact, the world to an incredible degree. I should remember that although I grew up in Western culture, I also knew little about the Bible. Of course, I thought of myself as a Christian– yet I don’t think I could have explained what that meant– until one day I discovered what it meant… That story is in, That Book and That Man– Part Two |
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