—– The building [...]]]> At the recent rehearsal dinner for our son and his fiancée, a few of us older folk injected one of their last hours of singleness with bits of wisdom learned gleaned through our own struggles in life. If you’ll indulge me, I’ll pass along a few personal musings that time didn’t allow that evening.

—–
The building blocks of life are laid down rough and squared up later.

You need not seek conflicts; they find you soon enough. But the whisper from the created universe is one of hope: “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.” Listen and learn.

Having our lives flexed by the opposing forces of joy and sorrow–even triumph and failure–builds strength and unity that come in no other way.

The spoken word, an arrow shot, will find a mark if aimed or not.

What you can’t see doesn’t diminish its reality, and what you don’t understand doesn’t negate its power.

No tears are more bitter than those shed over having failed to do what you should have and could have done but didn’t.

Embrace three unchangeables and succeed; shun them and flounder. They are these: limitations of time and opportunity are inescapable, restrictions others impose upon us are unavoidable, and benefits from moral restraint are undeniable.

True prayer is not so much what we say, but what God hears.

Those with the power to hurt us sometimes exercise their ability to blot the light from our lives. But the dawn may be more dramatic than the sunset–if we can hang on through the seemingly interminable midnight hours.

Time is the currency of our physical lives, a coin of inestimable worth whose two faces–advance and retreat–seem to turn up randomly. But with its value resting in the integrity of the Giver, we can spend the coin of life with joy, no matter which face we see.

Duty is what we do while waiting for deliverance to come.

There’s a corollary to the Golden Rule: If you knew for certain that what you did unto others would swiftly be done unto you, behavior modification would be instant and effective.

If you would like to leave a lasting influence, draw along side those who are struggling. Babysit. Go to the store. Run errands. Write a note. Cook a meal. It’s often easier to endure the cloudburst of crisis than the persistent drip-drip-drip of routine that slowly erodes strength and hope.

Rules indiscriminately applied don’t replace thinking; being right is no substitute for compassion.

The cares of this world and the urgency of the moment have an irresistible way of spoiling the important, which is seldom in a hurry.

The details you immerse yourself into are the brushstrokes of destiny. And if those details–your decisions, companions, aspirations, observations, meditations, activities–be good, so will be the picture of what you’re becoming.

The trophies of parenthood come when our children return to us in like kind–hour for hour, laugh for laugh, tear for tear–the costly treasure we poured into childhood.
—–
May God bless Barrett and Brandi as they embark on this new adventure together!

Copyright 2006 James McAlister

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Sources of quotations

The most remarkable of the four is the second, with checks dating from 9/21/68 through 5/26/69. In our last year of college then, I was 22 and Mary 21. Mighty young and naïve I'd [...]]]> Why have I bothered to save these check registers from our early marriage? For posterity, I suppose, should anyone actually be interested.

The most remarkable of the four is the second, with checks dating from 9/21/68 through 5/26/69. In our last year of college then, I was 22 and Mary 21. Mighty young and naïve I'd conclude today.

We enrolled that school year with a $250 bank balance. But 11 checks in about a week eroded that princely nest egg to $8.42 after the $75 rent. Payday arrived barely in time: $220 to last another month. With some expanded duties, my salary soon leapt to $303.

A few patterns spring from the register. Most checks were under $20, and many were even less than $5. What could possibly have cost so little?

A few examples: Safeway ($4.65), J.C. Penny ($3.00), Southwestern Electric Power ($4.40), Arkansas Western Gas ($4.21), Gulf Oil ($6.67), Arkansas Gazette ($2.25).

Mother made our $45 car note for many months, but I notice that we eventually assumed the payment ourselves.

Even with such meager resources, our bank balance actually rose to slightly more than $400 on three occasions. But it fell below $50 numerous times. Obviously, we had little cash reserve for emergencies–but none ever arose.

July 1969 saw us both graduated and living in Plano, Tex., then a town of about 10,000. I worked in Dallas, and Mary soon landed a position teaching English at Princeton High School.

We opened our Plano checking account with $600, and the balance actually exceeded that level occasionally. Though it once bottomed out at $15, it seldom fell below $50. Definitely better than college.

But we learned a lesson: where goods increase, so do those that consume them.

Our first week in Plano required several outlays. Timber Forest Apartments ($123 rent plus $100 pet deposit for our beloved Puddy Tat), Home Town Furniture ($15.60), medical clinic ($13), Skillern's Drugs ($8.00), Gulf Oil ($45.67). Then came the beginnings of a new teacher's wardrobe from Young Set ($146.64).

Many small purchases helped get the furnished apartment outfitted. Steve's Trading Post ($4.18), Plano Lumber ($5.00) and Bruton Paint ($3.69) supplied the raw materials for homemade shelves that survived various incarnations for at least 30 years.

A new car bumped payments to $78, and previously unknown health issues bade us visit Plano Medical Association, Dr. Benedict Homer and Texas State Optical. Of course, commuting expenses rose as we each traveled 25 miles in opposite directions to our respective jobs.

Soon, our move to an unfurnished duplex required three rooms of furniture from Bill Massey Furniture ($175.14) and Levitz ($200.00).

Despite the ebb and flow of early marriage fortunes, there were constants. I see, for example, regular checks to Meadows Baptist Church where young Bill Probasco was pastor. And Mary's resourcefulness and creativity faithfully always rendered our various homes (both then and now) pleasant, appealing and livable.

A house may be to fortune bound, but home endures where love is found.

Copyright 2004 James McAlister

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We were young and in [...]]]> It hardly seems as seems as if our 37 years together have come and gone so quickly, but sifting through old pictures this past week convinces me that they have. My hair was once black, but what few locks that age and stress have permitted to remain are now decidedly gray.

We were young and in the carefree days of youth, oblivious to the difficulties soon to confront us. But in an instant on December 21, 1972, Jenny's traumatic birth brought the first change to dramatically alter our futures and respective outlooks on life. And unseen to us, other mountains of crisis loomed just over the horizon.

Could we have foreseen the difficulties ahead, we might have decided that the path of pain best be avoided–and then have done so. But the grace of God conceals the future so we might not be fearful and learn to depend on Him to rise to whatever occasion He permits to enter our lives. And He has been faithful to do that, even when we haven't always been faithful to respond properly.

Surprisingly, though, each pain that's been delivered to our door has been balanced by a corresponding joy that would arrive later. If I could just learn to wait for the joy without growing discouraged….

My mother gave us nicknames 37 years ago: Sunshine and Thundercloud. Even a casual observer can tell which is which today! But despite our differences, you have been a faithful mother and wife, one who had endured hardship with a persistent optimism that continues to encourage me. I thank you for that.

You have loved–and continue to love–your children to the fullest. Though Jenny is now gone from us, tonight we'll go to eat at Jasmine's, where Barrett has planned a special treat for our anniversary dinner. He is an extremely diligent worker, one who endeavors to make his employers successful. He learned that from you.

What does the future hold for us? We can't know, but we do have some anticipations for this next phase of life. We look forward together to Barrett's graduation from college, his career, his marriage, his family….

Seven years ago on our 30th anniversary, I had two specific prayers for you. I repeat them here as my continued desire:

1. That the beauty of the Lord our God would be upon you and that He would establish the work of your hands (Psalm 90:17).

2. That He would clothe you with strength and dignity (Proverbs 31:25).

May God bless you–and I love you!
——
Why would I share such personal details? Perhaps to encourage those who think long-term relationships are a steady stream of carefree days and then abandon each other when their idealism doesn't materialize.

In looking back, one thing is clear. Having our lives flexed by the opposing forces of joy and sorrow–even triumph and failure–builds strength and unity that come in no other way.

Copyright 2004 James McAlister

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Every year my wife thoughtfully formulates a special request–whatever she pleases–for her birthday. Once she selflessly asked me to donate $100 to a favorite charity in her honor. Another year she desired [...]]]> One question stabs many husbands with increasing intensity as the time draws near: what should I get my wife for her birthday? Not me.

Every year my wife thoughtfully formulates a special request–whatever she pleases–for her birthday. Once she selflessly asked me to donate $100 to a favorite charity in her honor. Another year she desired $100 to produce a Christmas play at church. A play, by the way, she had written. This year, however, the request reached beyond the simple: a children's book contest.

Making books herself is nothing new for Mary; she's been at it for years. Endless varieties once flowed from our son's boundless activities: touring the firehouse, having birthday parades, vacationing, visiting the county fair… and more.

Though Mary wishes she could have written children's classics like Goodnight Moon and Runaway Bunny, she has instead concentrated on tailoring unique book creations as gifts for friends and loved ones. One of these chronicled Jenny Jan, a tiny plastic pig once belonging to our daughter Jenny. After Jenny's death, Mary wrote a story describing how Jenny Jan went to live with her friend Jan Simmons, a perpetual porcine paraphernalia aficionado. And along with little Jenny Jan, Mary presented the tale of Jenny Jan's travels to Jan.

Then there was the birthday book for sister Betty based on her emails combined with Mary's childhood memories.

Mary has oft been encouraged to sell her handmade cards, but they are so unique that she realizes they would fit no one but the particular person for whom they were created. In the middle the outdoor wedding ceremony for Kristian Andersen, for example, several sheep jumped from bushes and trotted near the wedding party. The card for that memory would fit no one else.

And the card about literary twins Wan and Tan would appeal to but a few who appreciate the humorous nuances of our language.

So the request for a book contest–plus the ubiquitous $100 for three prizes–wasn't really too far afield, considering our history. Contest rules directed entrants to both write and illustrate their books and bind them appropriately, of course, in true book fashion.

So the contest was held, books received, prizes awarded, pictures snapped, press release issued.

But why all this fussing over a birthday book contest? Because we're in that awkward stage between children and grandchildren where close contacts with the young are limited. The contest served as a means to an end, an opportunity to draw from others the energy bound up in their enthusiasm.

Forgetting from whence he has come, Age often develops a jaded cynicism that considers youthfulness a wretched condition to be avoided. And the singular cure is for Age to humble himself before Youth in order to feel again awe and wonder over new things learned, to marvel at the prospects the future holds for those who may grow old in body but not in mind.

But what next year's birthday holds, no one knows… yet.

Copyright 2004 James McAlister

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It was the day before Valentine's Day, 1968. Newly married, they were struggling through college. She, the incurable romantic, hunched over the drawing board, toiling to create a giant-size king of hearts for her own King of Hearts. India ink was unforgiving. But her [...]]]> Embarrassing? Definitely. Humiliating? Without a doubt. But it happened just this way.

It was the day before Valentine's Day, 1968. Newly married, they were struggling through college. She, the incurable romantic, hunched over the drawing board, toiling to create a giant-size king of hearts for her own King of Hearts. India ink was unforgiving. But her Beloved was worth the labor of love.

Anticipating his utter astonishment the next day, she tingled with delight. Beloved would occasionally saunter through to cast a sidewise glance. What was so important, so secretive as to consume precious study time?

"You'll never guess what I'm doing," she gently teased. "Hmmm. I guess not. But you better get to studying." "No, this is worth it." "Well, don't say I didn't warn you."

She dreams. "My Precious is so mysterious! I wonder what he's going to get me?"

The big day arrives. 7:00 AM. She whips out the card. "Happy Valentine's Day!!! YOU are the King of MY heart!!" "Is that what you spent all day doing? Man! You should have been studying." "Don't you like it?" "Huh? Yeah. Oh, yes. very nice. And so are you. I love you. I'm off to class. See you at noon."

But she's ever the optimist. "Isn't he romantic? He's going to build up my anticipation and surprise me at noon. My hero!"

Noon. She's preparing to leave when he arrives. "Well, it's about time to go. See you later." "Good. Good. See you at 5:00." She pauses, wide-eyed, gazing expectantly into his eyes. "Well, aren't you leaving? You'll be late." "Yes. Yes, I'm going now. Bye."

Her heart is still hopeful. "He's really building up the excitement! I guess he's going to give me my gift at 5:00."

Valentine's evening, 5:00 PM. They're eating supper when Beloved speaks. "Supper was great! You're really cooking a lot better now! Remember the first time you made gravy? When I picked up the spoon, the whole bowl of congealed grease came up with it! I've got to study now. Here, this is for you." Her heart flutters, anticipating what he's about to hand her.

She takes the dirty plate from his hand. Fluttering stops. He opens his book; she continues her reverie. "He's so romantic! He's waiting until 7:00 to give me my present. that's the romantic hour!"

As 7:30 comes and goes, reverie wanes. Emotional flip-flops set in. "Maybe he doesn't have me a gift. No, of course he does. He loves me, doesn't he? No, he's not going to give me a gift. Yes, he is. No, he's not. Yes, he is."

Exasperated, she stands and shouts. "No – you – are – not – going – to – give – me – a – Valentine's – present!" Leaping up, Beloved the bookish scholar knocks his chair over. "Yes I am! I was just about to go and get it!" Instantly saturating her with his absence, Beloved soon returnes with a lovely bottle of Woodhue by Fabergé.

He learned something that day: lessons of the heart aren't in books.

Copyright 2001 James McAlister

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He was a young man. With a full head of dark hair, he was slim and trim and pretty strong for his size. With most of his life before him, he had enough enthusiasm to believe that any difficulty could eventually [...]]]> It's Valentine's Day, and I'm thinking of the person my wife married in her youth.

He was a young man. With a full head of dark hair, he was slim and trim and pretty strong for his size. With most of his life before him, he had enough enthusiasm to believe that any difficulty could eventually be overcome. He was seldom discouraged and viewed problems as no more than opportunities in work clothes.

The husband she has today is a lot different. He's old, and what little hair he has left is mostly gray. With his endurance and slim waistline gone the way of the buffalo, he's tired a lot of the time. And though it shouldn't be that way, he often finds himself discouraged, even worrying over little things. Rather than seeing problems as opportunities, they are more like devils on steamrollers in hot pursuit.

It's hard to believe that the young man was as she remembers him. But he really was; she has pictures to prove it. But the passage of 33 years has changed a lot of things about me, not all of them for the best. Time often does that in such a way that we might not even notice the transition. Unless, of course, we look back and compare, as I'm doing today.

I'm grateful that her faithfulness to me has not been based on physical attractiveness. Had it been, I would surely have been the loser.

Butterflies flit from one flower to another, attracted by the beauty and fragrance of the bloom. But that's what butterflies are supposed to do. When people do the same thing, the results are far more consequential.

Still, it happens all the time. Someone with greater physical beauty comes along, and a life-long mate is abandoned. Relationships built on physical qualities are on shifting sand and prone to topple; time has a way of wrecking physical beauty.

Now, in the autumn of our lives, we are able to enjoy the fruit of years of shared experiences. And while many of them have been difficult, working through them together makes them all the more meaningful. But none of these rewards would have been possible had either of us decided to flit around like butterflies "on golden wings" and seek the beauty of the moment.

ON GOLDEN WINGS

The fragrant air of summer days
Brings golden wings that tempt and tease
And flit till flow'r and bloom are gone,
Then fade into our memories.

Though thus the bloom of youth may fade,
Enduring love's no flitting thing
That's true as long as beauty stays
And then departs on golden wings.

We have the autumn of our lives
To reap the fruit we sowed in spring,
And bonds of love that last that long
Were never borne on golden wings.

Copyright 2000 James McAlister

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"We want to thank you for our lovely coat rack. We love wood in the natural color that [...]]]> "Thank you so much for the Bible; it will be something to remember you by in the future. The meal was delicious, too. Thank you for your prayers and visits, and may God truly bless each of you."

"We want to thank you for our lovely coat rack. We love wood in the natural color that shows the grain. We would love to have you two over any time, as you are always welcome. Thanks again for the gift and the thoughts."

"I got the book that you sent through the mail. I scanned it quickly and got excited just thinking about it. Thanks again; I appreciate it."

"We really enjoyed the sweet fellowship with you both. The food was delicious, too. Thank you for inviting us. We love you both".

"I just wanted to thank you again for the precious outfit for the baby. She wore it on the plane, and everyone wanted to know where it was from. We will always remember your sweet and kind spirit. Write when you can; we would love to hear from you."

"We sure do appreciate your thoughtfulness during the difficult time in our lives. It has really meant a lot to me for you to be so considerate in so many ways."

"It's been a long time since we last communicated. A lot has happened here, and a letter from me is long overdue. I think of you often, but please forgive me for not writing until now."

Smooth and gentle, these vignettes of everyday family life are from notes we have received. Some go back 25 years. But the seemingly happy individuals who wrote them somehow wandered into the jaws of the same trap…and then it suddenly snapped shut.

What is the common thread? All of those involved are now divorced. Long-standing relationships have been severed, strewing bitterness like dust in a whirlwind.

A friend in another state just told us that her marriage of 30-plus years is dissolving. A new flame, it seems, has mesmerized her husband. And like a moth drawn to a candle, he's in an ever-tightening orbit, oblivious to the death just a wing-beat away. The children are devastated.

And the note writers? I recall subtle indicators of trouble ahead. Dare I mention a few?

Public complaints about private irritations. Too much familiarity with co-workers or friends of the opposite sex. Diversion of precious family time to hobbies and sports. More attention to careers than to children and family relationships. Lack of patience and understanding over unavoidable circumstances. And so on.

They seemed so harmless, but such small seeds of discontent were being strewn here and there as we interacted. Cultivated over the years, a bitter crop inevitably came in.

With the wreckage of families in a heap before us, we may ponder, "I wonder what went wrong?" And it would be so easy to overlook the little, unattended details that eventually caused so great a collapse in others' lives… and miss them in our own.

Copyright 1999 James McAlister

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And in excursions here and there We've built some castles in the air And reaped regret for Labors sown in vain.

The dreams we've had sometimes turned 'round When winds of change blew us aground That we might learn how God [...]]]> It only seems like yesterday
A pair of words cast us away
From shores that seemed so
Safe and free from pain.

And in excursions here and there
We've built some castles in the air
And reaped regret for
Labors sown in vain.

The dreams we've had sometimes turned 'round
When winds of change blew us aground
That we might learn how
God works all for good.

'Twas then it seemed we had to learn
To trim our sails and make the turns
To be the mates and
Friends we knew we should.

But still with every passing year
The bonds of love from joys and tears
Sustain us when we're
Buffeted with force.

And though we've got some miles to go,
The words "I do" said long ago
Still bind our hearts and
Keep us on our course.

Copyright 1997 James McAlister

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