Friending Ashley Judd

(a brief Lectionary reflection by Steve Orr)

Lately, Facebook has been suggesting I become friends with Ashley Judd.  

It pops up on the right hand side of the screen under "People You May Know." Ashley Judd ... with that little +1 symbol and the "Add Friend" link beneath her name.  The first time it happened I, naively I now realize, clicked on the link.  Facebook quickly displayed a message informing me that Ashley couldn't be friends with me because she already has too many friends.  I don't know this for certain, but I sensed it was a comment made snidely.  As if the word, "dimwit" were invisably appended to the end of the message.

(Stop that. I could, TOO, be friends with Ashley Judd!)

I know why it's there.  It's because Facebook's algorithm thingy recognized we are both from Kentucky.  So, of COURSE we might know each other.  That right there, that kind of "thinking," is why I haven't lost a minute of sleep worrying about artificially intelligent robots taking over the earth.  They've got a LONG way to go.  In any event, I had learned my lesson.  So now when I see it lurking over there on the right, I just ignore it.  

It's too bad, really, because I think I really COULD share some stories with Ashley that, being from Kentucky, would resonate for her.  I could tell her about Paul and Mike, about Carolyn and Ginny Ann, about Bob and Robin, Bruce and Bonnye; about the great times we all had exploring the Land Between the Lakes, spelunking, picking apples to earn spending money, writing poetry, climbing on the monkey bars, playing on the train tracks, driving through the 19th Hole, playing ball on a makeshift mowed-out diamond, being in school plays and musicals, canoeing Kentucky Lake, holding hands, and, yes, skipping stones.  

Great memories of growing up in west Kentucky.  Even the bad parts don't look so bad after half a century.  Yes, I think Ashley would recognize some of that.  And would welcome a friendship that helps her to recall her own growing-up times.

"Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. --Matthew 10:40

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This week's Lectionary readings
Genesis 22:1-14
Psalm 13
Jeremiah 28:5-9
Psalm 89:1-4, 15-18
Romans 6:12-23
Matthew 10:40-42

If you are in Waco Friday, join us at Cafe Cappuccino for some great food and a fine time talking about this week's passages (8:00 a.m. On 6th, near the Courthouse).

At War With Dad - DDay Special Edition

A memoir by Steve Orr.

THIS IS A REPOST FROM AN EARLIER DATE. IT APPEARS TODAY TO HONOR ALL WHO HAVE SERVED, OR NOW SERVE, OUR COUNTRY IN MILITARY ENDEAVORS.

The argument had been going on for the better part of an hour. Actually, Dad didn't think it was much of an argument considering his Sergeant was doing almost all of the talking. The Captain of the boat handled his side of the argument with looks and shrugs. Dad couldn't hear them, but based on the fury he saw on his Sergeant's face, it seemed like it must be pretty important.

But Dad didn't really care what they were arguing about. In true army fashion, they had been rushed to the disembarkation point, only to find they had to wait over 24 hours before they could board the boat. Then, once on board, he and his crew of two having secured their 40mm Bofors gun, the excitement of finally DOING something was cut short by the journey itself. The crossing had been rough. Most of the men on the boat were seasick, Dad included. And for the last hour, he had watched his Sergeant alternate between puking over the side of the boat and yelling at the salty old Brit who was piloting them across the Channel.

It was June 6, 1944. D-Day. They were on their way to Normandy, France.

Dad knew very little about the plans for that day; only that when they finally did reach shore, they were supposed to hitch their gun to a deuce-and-a-half truck which would transport it, and the three of them, to the place where they would start shooting at things with it. And as a recently promoted Corporal, he knew more than most.

The landing, when it finally came, happened swifty, and not at all as had been described. When the ramp slapped onto beach, everyone on the boat saw the same thing: nothing . . . no other soldiers, no equipment, and most importantly to Dad, no deuce-and-a-half. So, at the urging of the Sergeant, several of the soldiers helped Dad and his crew wrestle the wheeled gun off the boat and across part of the beach until they reached a point where the resistance of the sand could no longer be overcome by human efforts. They were stuck midway between water's edge and the firmer ground that bordered the beach. Nothing was going to move that gun one more inch until a truck could could be found to pull it.

That's when Dad learned the topic of his Sergeant's one-sided argument: he had been trying to convince their civilian pilot they were headed in the wrong direction, but to no avail. The result? They were on the wrong beach.

So, while Sarge and the rest of the soldiers left to reconnect with the larger body of the invading force, Dad and crew had to stay and protect their gun. Which didn't seem like such a bad thing, until the ordinance starting falling all about them. Their gun was cradled in a wheeled structure, or carriage. It didn't provide much cover, but it was the best they were going to find. So they dived under it, dug a shallow trench in the sand and, as Dad put it, "hunkered down." All throughout that day they "hugged the sand" under that gun, praying the random explosions would not find them.

Eventually, the day came to an end, and with it an end to the shelling. It was only later that Dad learned the old pilot's mistake had spared them the horrors, and likely instant death, they would have encountered at their intended destination: Omaha Beach. If you've ever seen the opening sequence to the movie, "Saving Private Ryan," then you have some idea of what they were spared.

[The above is a selection from a longer piece I am writing about the few things my Dad told me of his service during World War II.]

Mind Your Head, Watch Your Step

At last, we were on our way! This was a journey of firsts for us: first time to go to Alaska; first time to take a cruise; first time to be this far from shore without an airplane! ;-) It was one of those times in life where every moment seems to hold a special view, or thought, or experience.

So, what with all that excitement going on, perhaps you will pardon me for reading a lot of meaning into the signs that suddenly loomed up before us as we took a turn around the ship's deck. There on the wall, just to the left of a doorway leading to the ship's interior were two neatly lettered signs, one just above the other. On the first were the words: "MIND YOUR HEAD." And just below it, the second read: "WATCH YOUR STEP."

I was transfixed. It felt as if God had reached down and placed those signs just there for me to read. Yes, I was on vacation, but that didn't mean the complexities of my life had disappeared with the rapidly receding Seattle skyline. I had a lot on my mind; chief of which was the recent realization that I might have to return to a profession for which I thought the need had long ago ended; the possibility I might need to resurrect skill sets I thought would never be needed again.

The appearance of those signs---despite the fact that, in subsequent days, I encountered identical signs at every entrance to the interior---just seemed providential. The thoughts printed there pierced to the heart of my worries, calming me. Yes, those thoughts are just good advice to folks perambulating about on a boat that is subject to the uncertainties of the sea. But I think you will agree they can be usefully applied to our non-seagoing lives as well.

So, aboard ship, I minded my head and watched my step. But I carried those instructions with me when I returned to the real world; referencing them often over the following months and years. I find them reflected in one of today's lectionary passages: "Turn all your anxiety over to God because he cares for you. Keep your mind clear, and be alert." 1 Peter 5:7-8a

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The lectionary readings for the coming week
Acts 1:6-14
Psalm 68:1-10, 32-35
1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11
John 17:1-11

Join us if you are in Waco on Friday. We meet at Cafe Cappuccino (on 6th, near the Courthouse) at 8:00 a.m. Good food and an interesting discussion with fabulous people ;-)

Enjoy!
Steve