THE LOVE OF GOD (Hymn)

1. The love of God is greater far
   Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
   It goes beyond the highest star,
   And reaches to the lowest hell;
   The guilty pair, bowed down with care,
   God gave His Son to win;
   His erring child He reconciled,
   And pardoned from his sin.
   • Refrain:
     Oh, love of God, how rich and pure!
     How measureless and strong!
     It shall forevermore endure—
     The saints’ and angels’ song.
2. When hoary time shall pass away,
   And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall,
   When men who here refuse to pray,
   On rocks and hills and mountains call,
   God’s love so sure, shall still endure,
   All measureless and strong;
   Redeeming grace to Adam’s race—
   The saints’ and angels’ song.
3. Could we with ink the ocean fill,
   And were the skies of parchment made,
   Were every stalk on earth a quill,
   And every man a scribe by trade;
   To write the love of God above
   Would drain the ocean dry;
   Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
   Though stretched from sky to sky.

WE SHALL BEHOLD HIM

As a child of the 50’s and 60’s, (the 1950’s and 1960’s) I have been more than impressed with what seems to be a geometrical increase in technology. And I think one example “speaks to me,” more so than thousands of others. I was (and still am) a great fan and advocate of space exploration.

I was recall watching the Mercury, Gemini and Saturn program launches on television leading up to the first manned lunar landing in 1969. I remember watching Neil Armstrong climbing down the ladder of the Lunar Lander, and who can forget his first words, as he dropped off that last step onto the dusty surface of the moon?

“That’s one small step for man. One giant leap for mankind.”

The example? In recent years we have been told that there is more computing power and storage capability in a small hand-held smart phone than once existed in that Lunar Lander. Now that is impressive!

Over the past decade, I have been an avid subscriber to social media, and the various computer capabilities which were only a figment in my day and time.

Speaking of the amazing increase of technology in this century, the first time I ever witnessed a Skype conversation was in 2006 when I noticed an e-face staring into the eyes of one of my university students, and an e-mouth speaking to her from the colorful confines of that animated rectangular little screen.

Pt. 2

Speaking of Skype, fast forward about ten years, and I was going about my daily business when my wife’s cell phone went off, and answering it, Jean found herself looking at a very familiar countenance in a very unfamiliar place. Having excused herself, and having handed the phone off to me, I recognized the beaming face of my God son-in-law, Travis. At the time he was stationed in Afghanistan, and we proceeded to engage in a twenty minute live feed conversation; he in the midst of a hot canvass Army tent, and I in the midst of my comfortable, air conditioned living room.

And I remember thinking how the soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines of WWII, Korea, Vietnam and the Persian Gulf War would have loved this sort of technology, but depended upon “snail mail,” and, ultimately, phone calls, instead.

Speaking of social media, I have often instant messaged a French or English or Iranian friend whom I have never met in person, but with whom I have exchanged many pleasantries over the years. How quickly the words have flown back and forth between us.

And then only yesterday, I was interacting with an Indonesian friend. I had made a comment under one of the posts on her profile page. Suphattra had posted a photo of herself in the course of eating a berry, and I, not knowing the language in which the caption was written, asked what kind of berry it was. With this, Suphattra wrote, “It is a mulberry.” With this, I responded with, “I used to eat mulberry’s when I was a boy.” And with this, the young lady posted another photo of her left hand, and a lone mulberry, and the words, “This one is for you. Hope you like it!” (And I assured her that I did).

Pt. 3

And the foregoing exhaustive account of the rise in technology brings me to the purpose of my blog. For you see, the context of Christian scripture provides us the implication that we are living in the last days. (And I happen to believe it).

Not only has the prophetic word of the holy writ been fulfilled, (I was conceived in the year that Israel once again clothed itself in the mantle of a state), but amazing things are happening around us.

For years scholars and lay people, alike, questioned how the following prophetic utterance could be fulfilled.

"Look, he is coming with the clouds," and "every eye will see him, even those who pierced him"; and all peoples on earth "will mourn because of him." (Rev. 1:7)

But now we know “the rest of the story.” In an age in which live news broadcasts, and Facetime provide us instant gratification, and we can sit at our dining room table, and watch the horrendous developments surrounding Tien men Square, the Brexit debate in Great Britain, and we were privileged to look into the eyes of our daughter on a daily basis during her recent visit to Nepal, little doubt remains concerning the mode by which all the world will see Him when He takes His rightful place on the throne.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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DON'T QUIT

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must, but don't you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won if he'd stuck it out.
Don't give up, though the pace seems slow -
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man;
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor's cup,
And he learned too late, when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are -
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit -
It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.

- by John Greenleaf Whittier

A CAT NAMED SPIRIT

“Yesterday, during one of my daily crying spells, I asked my recently deceased son to send me a sign that he was ok and happy. Just anything that would unmistakably assure me that he is still with me "in spirit". Today, I got that sign. This is "Spirit" who strangely enough, my brother had already named him before he came to me because he found him on Spirit Lake Rd. For me, his name took on a whole new meaning. My son, also being a rescuer, heard my plea and sent me that sign I prayed for. Please read it and you'll know the rest of this story.”♡

(Linda McDonald Osteen)

Simply put, I am an animal lover.

I have previously written of having come across several helpless animals during the course of my ‘wee hours of the morning’ bike and walking treks.

There was the emaciated pooch, a mini-Doberman, tied to a light post which, as I rode my bike on a nearby sidewalk, I retrieved, brought home, and ‘farmed out’ to a no-kill shelter. There was the pitiful little cat, injured and lying next to a local two lane road. All I could do was call the dog pound and ask an animal control person to pick it up. And there was the time I ‘happened up’ on another feral cat, as I walked a two miler during a holiday at Cedar Key. I recall pausing and stroking his fur, and scratching under his chin, and musing aloud, “Sorry, little fella. About all I can do is spend a moment with you and offer you a little comfort.” And with that, I went on my way.

This morning, as I was about halfway through my walking circuit, I noticed a man who was about to transect my path. And as is my custom, rather than walk past someone at ‘O Dark Thirty,’ (and thus ‘take my life in my own hands’) I crossed the highway which bordered the sidewalk.

And having crossed this particular thoroughfare, and then another, in order to begin my trek home, I passed another light pole, (re. my earlier allusion) and lo and behold I noticed a small kitten sitting on the concrete base of the pole; about two feet above ground level.

You remember that old adage about the turtle on the fencepost? Well, (as with the kitten) we can assume he didn’t get there by himself.

But having arrived at this juncture, it may be helpful for you to understand that I ALWAYS include helpless, homeless, hungry feral animals in my daily prayers. Of course, many of these animals were previously abused, and while some have gotten loose, many have been dumped along our highways and byways.

Pt. 2

But to return to my story.

It immediately occurred to me that, as with the other instances, I was being called to ‘put feet to my prayers.’

Prayer or no prayer, I simply could not leave the kitten ‘to its own devices.’ (Though honestly, I prefer dogs to cats any day). But having scanned the general area, and assured myself that there wasn’t a mama cat in the vicinity, I picked up the bony creature, and gently holding it by my side, I quickly walked the remaining half mile home.

And while I had no plan, whatsoever, to keep the kitten, I did something which I have so often done. I mentally assigned a name to the pitiful creature, and I claimed him for the kingdom.

(Yes, I did).

His name? Well, since I discovered the poor little thing on Spirit Lake Road, I decided to call him, ‘Spirit;’ (a name which will have significant import by the time this story reaches its certain conclusion).

And, no doubt, dear readers, by now you are ‘biting at the bit’ for some clarity re. my having claimed the tiny fur ball for the kingdom.

In Psalm 36:6, we read,

“You preserve both men and animals, alike.”

And it is upon this particular implication I base my premise.

Are you familiar with The Rainbow Bridge? The notion that our animals have gone on before us, and will be waiting for us at the pearly gates? Well, I’m convinced that as believers can rest assured that we will see our pet pooches and felines again.

Pt. 3

Having arrived home, I poured some milk into a paper plate, and set it before little Spirit. He ignored it. At this point, I dipped a teaspoon into the milk, and lifted it to his mouth. And with that, Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Spirit had, by this time, crawled under my dining room table, and refused to move from his solitary place.

Having assured myself that ‘Queenie,’ my 15 pound Shih Tzu, was under the supervision of my wife, Jean, I sat down at my computer, and I.M.’ed my sister.

It may be helpful to understand that Linda is a night nurse, and that she sits with chronically ill youngsters in the wee hours of the evening. It might also be helpful to know that my sister is a cat person, par excellence.

As I described the scenario by which I had stumbled upon the cat, (and subsequently, rescued it) she offered something which I had not, ‘til this point,’ considered.

“I think Tony had something to do with it. I think he led you to the cat.”

And while I am characterizing things which may be helpful for you to understand, sadly, Linda’s 35 year old son, Tony, passed away last month.

Tony was, (as is his mother) a cat rescue person. And speaking of my newly named cat, it seems more than fitting that, in respect for Tony, I coincidentally chose the moniker, ‘Spirit’ for the precious little creature. (For it goes without saying that Tony has gone on to his reward).

And as you might imagine, as my sister and I interacted, I was on the threshold of asking Linda if she could ‘see her way clear’ to adopt the furry tyke.

As it fell together, I didn’t have to ask.

Pt. 4

“Would you like me to pick up the precious thing on my way home?”

(Dear Readers, she didn’t have to ask twice).

In a flash, my nimble fingers typed out that oft-used three letter word.

(Yes)

“Why, Yes. Yes, I would. I would like that a great deal.”

And to quote the most bless-ed promise in the Bible,

“And it came to pass.”

After my sister arrived home, she and I exchanged several texts. In the couple of hours which had transpired since she pulled into my driveway, she had visited the vet, had the kitten wormed, and antibiotics were administered.

And as my little text tone chimed again (and again), I opened each subsequent message and initially saw a photo. (Spirit was eating)! And then a brief video. (Spirit was exploring)!

Sullivan Ballou, that late great Union officer, once penned the most eloquent letter ever written in the context of the Civil War. And in it, he alluded to the proposition that those who have gone on before might have some import, input and impact into our daily lives here.

“But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the brightest day and darkest night; always, always. And when the soft breeze fans your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.”



Perhaps, as my sister implied, her dearly departed son had something to do with the circumstances of last night, the stranger crossing the road, and my need to find a different pathway home.

Need I say, I think maybe Tony is still in the cat rescue business!


by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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JESUS ON THE GARBAGE TRUCK

I was on the phone with my daughter in West Virginia a few days ago, and she “came out” with an unexpected, but encouraging statement.

Well, let me offer you a little background color before I tell you what my little Mary said to me.

You see, while my daughter is just three years away from the half century mark, she is both mentally ill and borderline retarded, and, as a result, experiences significant impairment in her thinking and functioning. And, as a result, Mary has lived in an assisted living environment over the past twenty-five plus years.

I have often characterized Mary’s ongoing demeanor during this period of time as neither extremely morose, nor extraordinarily ecstatic, and that, “I think she has done the best she could under the circumstances.” It has been difficult for me to realize that my daughter will never marry, will never work a job, will never own a home, will never realize her full potential, and will never function as an adult is meant to function in our society.

Be that as it may, when I was on the phone with Mary the other evening she began talking about a recent experience, the context of which she had only rarely discussed, when she said,

“Dad, I was in my room the other day, and I felt God’s presence with me.”

(and)

“I didn’t see Him, but I knew He was there.”

And I spontaneously responded with,

“You know it is so much like that, Mary when we are sitting in a room, and someone quietly walks in behind us. We sense their presence with us, but we have not yet seen them.”

Pt. 2

And it seemed to me that my illusion “rang a bell” for Mary. At least, it helped her connect with the understanding that, even in her darkest days, God has not been preoccupied, nor taken a vacation, nor been on a bathroom break.

I ran across a wonderful You Tube segment a couple years ago which features an actor who looks surprisingly like the classical Jesus, and who, throughout the video, can be seen riding on the back of a garbage truck, encouraging a skateboarder to get up, and try again, and standing next to a depressed young woman on the roof of a building.

And I think this little video spoke to me about the daily presence of Jesus in our lives like nothing else ever did. And during the course of my busy life, I have so often viewed this video, and have been encouraged by that two minute bit of e-space, as I never was before.

“Dad, I was in my room the other day, and I felt God’s presence with me.”

(and)

“I didn’t see Him, but I knew He was there.”

It has helped me to comprehend that while Mary’s life is different than my own life, and that she will never move and live and breathe on this earth in the exact same manner which I do,… that God values her life and existence as much as He ever did my own.

Speaking of words my daughter has conveyed to me over the years, I will always remember one particular phrase.

“Dad, you know we all have a life to live.”

And I think no truer words have ever been spoken.

And whether we ride on the back of a garbage truck on a daily basis, flit from ramp to handrail to park bench on the back of a skateboard, stand atop a ten story building looking down at a one way leap into the abyss, or live out our lives in an assisted living facility, we can be sure that a loving, caring God, has counted the number of hairs on our heads, writes our names on the palm of His hand, has a space in His heart that only you or I can fill, and, who, though altogether unseen, will not leave us comfortless, and assures us of His presence in the brightest day and in the darkest night.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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TO WHERE YOU ARE

I was looking at various and sundry songs on You Tube recently, and came across Josh Groban's, "To Where You Are." And as the music video played out its heart-rending lyrics, I happened to look down in the comments section. One comment in particular caught my eye. A fellow named Paul spoke about his mother who was in the process of dying in a distant city. She had been comatose for a week, and during that week her son would call, and the hospice nurse would put the phone up to her ear.

And on that fateful evening, as the nurse gently placed the phone next to her, Paul turned on his CD player, and the ethereal melody of, "To Where You Are" drifted across the airy span which separated them from one another. When the song concluded, the RN picked up the phone, and told Paul that his mother had suddenly woken from her coma, mouthed the words, "Thank you" and "Goodbye, Paul," and passed on to her eternal reward.

Following are the words which I posted beneath this same melody.

"I can relate to Paul's comment about playing this song to his mom on the phone, as she was going on to meet her Maker. I have sung at the bedsides of loved ones, as they prepared to cross over. In one case my wife, who was at the time a visiting hospice nurse, called me at home, and asked if I would sing to her patient. I readily agreed, and she put the phone up to the ear of her patient, and I sang to him; (Amazing Grace, as I recall).

My wife said the elderly man raised his hands in worship. And though he didn't pass immediately, I like to think my long distance intervention soothed and encouraged this dear man; if only for a moment."

Post-Script

As my own mother was in the process of passing from this life to the next, she drifted away from us, and her death appeared to be imminent. During that intervening space in time, I sang "Amazing Grace" to her... and she suddenly came back to us, if only for a little while.

I can't recall the words I said to my mother that day, but she was aware of my presence, and she responded to me. And then, after a precious few minutes, mama returned to the place from whence she came; to the Giver of life, and our only hope in the realm in which we pin our hopes.

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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A GREAT DEBT. WHO CAN PAY?

Czar Nicholas of Russia often used to wander about his military camps and barracks, clothed as an ordinary officer, in order that he might know, without being known, what was going on.

Late one night when all lights were supposed to be extinguished, the Czar was making one of these tours of inspection. He noticed a light shining under the paymaster's door, and quietly opening it, stepped inside, intending to have the offender punished. A young officer, son of an old friend of the Czar, was seated at a table, his head resting on his arms, and sound asleep. The Czar stepped over to awaken him, but before doing so, noticed a loaded revolver, a small pile of money, and a sheet of paper with a pen that had fallen from the hand of the sleeping man. The light of the little candle let the Czar read what had just been written, and in a moment he understood the situation.

On the sheet of paper was a long list of debts, gambling and other evil debts. The total ran into many thousands of roubles. The officer had used army funds to pay these wicked, reckless debts, and now having worked till late into the night trying to get his accounts straight, had discovered for the first time how much he owed. It was hopeless; the pitifully small balance on hand left such a huge deficit to be made up! On the sheet of paper, below the terrible total, was written this question: 'Who can pay so great a debt?'

Unable to face the disgrace the officer had intended shooting himself, but completely worn out with sorrow and remorse, he had fallen asleep.

As the Czar realized what had happened, his first thought was to have the man immediately arrested, and in due course brought before a court-martial. Justice must be done in the army, and such a crime could not be passed by.

But as he remembered the long friendship with the young officer's father, love overcame judgment, and in a moment he had devised a plan whereby he could be just toward the army and yet justify the culprit. The Czar took up the pen that had dropped from the hand of the wearied, hopeless offender, and with his own hand answered the question with one word - 'Nicholas.'

Yes, the Czar himself, Nicholas, could pay that debt, and voluntarily undertook to do so. The young officer waked soon after the Czar had gone, and took up his revolver to end his life, but as he did so, his eye caught the answer to his question. In bewildered astonishment he gazed on that one word, 'NICHOLAS.' Surely such an answer was impossible! He had some papers in his possession which bore the genuine signature of the Czar, and quickly he compared the names, for it seemed too good to be true. To his intense joy, yet bitter humiliation, he realized that his Czar knew all about his sins, knew the utmost of his mighty debt, and yet instead of inflicting the penalty he deserved, had assumed the debt himself, and justified the debtor.

Joyfully and peacefully he lay down to rest, and early the next morning bags of money arrived from the Czar sufficient to pay the last cent of "so great a debt."

Reader, you and I have a mighty debt. We may well ask, "Who can pay it?" Thank God, love has provided an answer, and like the answer given by the Czar it is the word-

"JESUS"

Yes, the Lord Jesus Christ knows all about your debt. He knows how great it is. He knows how you came by it. He knows all the shame of it. He knows the cost of payment, and in spite of such intimate knowledge of you and it, He has assumed the full liability of it Himself. One word, "Nicholas," set the heart of that young man at rest-even filled it with joy. One word, "JESUS," has set my heart at rest and filled it with joy. Has that "one word," that one blessed name, filled your heart with rest, peace, and joy? It can. "Be it known unto you therefore, men and brethren, that through this Man is preached unto you the forgiveness of sins: and by Him all that believe are justified from all things" (Acts 13:38-39).

IN THE GARDEN

Recently, I was thinking how like our ancient parents we all are.

No, I’m not referring to our respective elderly, or late parents, as the case may be. I’m talking about a couple who go much further back than that. Do the names “Adam and Eve” ring a bell?

Of course, virtually everyone, irrespective of country of origin, culture or religion are familiar with them, and their story. And if you believe the Christian tradition, (which I do by the way) Adam and Eve happen to be the father and mother of every human being, approximately 100 billion of us, who have at one time lived, or who are now living on the earth.

According to the Book of Genesis, Adam and Eve were placed in this idyllic garden, and they were “given all things to enjoy,” except this one tree, and this one fruit which grew on the tree. You know, that luscious fruit which would allow them to differentiate between good and evil. (And contrary to popular belief, we have no reason to think it was an apple). Perhaps you recall the Lord warned the hapless couple to refrain from eating the fruit of that tree, lest they die. They were commanded to till the ground, and maintain the garden, but to, as it were, ignore “the gorilla in the room.”

I have sometimes wondered why the Creator decided to plant that tempestuous little tree in the Garden, when our original parents might have lived out their lives perfectly content, and without a care in the world.

But here God, as it were, digs a hole in the middle of a perfectly good garden, and plants this alluring thing in their midst knowing full well His best and brightest (well, best anyway) creation would be tempted to… do the wrong thing. A notable scholar has prognosticated that Jehovah put the tree there in order to give Adam and Eve the opportunity to obey or disobey, as God never intended to create mindless robots.

Pt. 2

Of course, you and I know “the rest of the story.” Their natural enemy (and ours), Lucifer by name, appeared in Eve’s midst, and suggested she pluck one of those little delicacies, and take a big, wet, juicy bite of it. Of course, Eve reminded Satan that God had warned her, and her husband against such a dastardly deed, and that if she ate the fruit, well, she would surely die.

Well, the former archangel would have none of that, and he immediately corrected our great great grandmother with the words, “You will not surely die!” And he presented the strong implication to Eve that God was just a spoil-sport, and that the Creator of the earth, and worlds and stars “didn’t know His head from a hole in the ground.”

Ultimately, we know that Eve succumbed to Satan’s suggestion, and after she ate the tasty “Winesap” (for lack of a better characterization), she brought one to Adam; who proceeded to cram it between his teeth and his tongue.

Of course, as the result of having eaten the fruit, we are told that Adam and Eve recognized they had been trapsing around “in the altogether,” and, as a result, they covered themselves in leaves. Obviously, all of these “going’s on” had not caught the Creator unawares, and He decided to investigate the scene of the crime.

And as God “did a star trek” before there was a Star Trek, and energized Himself onto the most traveled pathway in the Garden, Adam and Eve made almost as hasty an exit. In the briefest and most tempestuous of moments, the noblest of God’s created beings fell from grace, and literally “bit off more than they could chew!”

And, as a result of his sin, and the appearance of his righteous Creator in the Garden, Adam hid himself from the sight of God. Well, the I AM would have none of it, and He could only do what His righteous instincts demanded.

Adam and Eve were banished from the Garden of Eden. And as for the dying part of God’s admonition, our original parents, who had been designed to live forever in the beautiful Garden, literally began to die. Their lifespans were cut short. The years would grow heavy upon them, and they would, ultimately, die; as men and women, boys and girls continue to die today.

Pt. 3

As I have previously inferred, I think each and every one of God’s most magnificent creations have in the past, are in the present, and will continue to walk in the footsteps of our ancient parents, Adam and Eve.

I mean, each and every one of us have been placed in a particular ‘garden,’ and called to do a particular thing in the location in which we have been ‘planted.’ And in our own way, and our own time each and every one of us have succumbed to the temptations which surround us, and on a daily basis. None of us are immune, and every one of us have succumbed, in one way or the other, to the temptations which surround us. We have, as the sixth book of the New Testament reminds us, “fallen short of the glory of God.”

I have often reflected on the difference between a mistake and a sin. I think if we could call Adam or Eve back among the land of the living for a Q&A session, and we were to ask them the difference in these two words, we would receive an immediate response.

“Well now, let me see here. You know I’ve ‘been there.’ And from my way of thinking, the difference between a mistake and a sin is that while a mistake is simply a mistake, every sin we ever sin has been premeditated in advance.”

Oh, I have been prone to blame ole Adam, and his wife before him. If only they had simply obeyed, and refrained from eating that piece of fruit, we would all still be living in the Garden, and wiling away our days in the lap of innocence and luxury. Of course, we intuitively know that is not the case. Didn’t A&E’s son, Cain, sin after them, when he killed his brother, Abel? (That’s a rhetorical question). Of course, he did.

Sin is premeditated, and requires a series of actions leading to its culmination. It is based on the location in which we have been planted, the temptations with which we are surrounded, and our willingness to act upon the initial thought which sounds a lot like,

“Well now, wouldn’t that be fun?”

Afterward

Like father like son. Like mother like daughter.

We are all products of nature and nurture. And from the time nature and nurture began the process of naturing and nurturing, sin has ruled and reigned on the earth. Adam and Eve “got the ball rolling,” but we have all lined up behind them, and rolled the proverbial ball down the lane.

We have all been planted somewhere, and we have all, at least intuitively, known to do good, and to resist evil. And some of us, as the result of our premeditated choices, have been “banished from the garden” in which we were planted; some as the result of disease, or divorce, or the inability to achieve God’s best plans for our lives.

And others experiencing a more dire result; which I will leave to your imagination. And regrettably, those chronic, irresponsible, premeditated decisions some have made, and a failure to incorporate the only remedy which has the power to restore them to God has led to irreconcilable, permanent banishment from the Creator, and the place where He resides.

Somehow, we conveniently make an exception of ourselves among all the billions who ever lived, and moved, and breathed on the earth, and sinned before us, and we mindlessly place the forbidden fruit between our salivating lips.

“The ultimate cost of sin is far greater than the wages it initially pays.”

 by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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A VERY BEAUTIFUL DAY IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD

I didn’t grow up watching “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood,” but then again, its inception was in 1968, a year after I graduated from high school; (so the likelihood that I would have devoted much time to the program was almost nil).

In the last few moments I did a Google search, and discovered that the television show aired for a grand total of (drum roll) 33 years, and only went off the air in 2001; a fateful year for this country, and two years before his passing.

It occurs to me that “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood” was on television for the same amount of time that Jesus lived, and moved and breathed on the earth. I have never heard anyone expound on this bit of information. Perhaps it’s just a coincidence. But then, I don’t believe in coincidences.

Oh, I remember seeing snippets of Fred Rogers’ program, and honestly, it did little or nothing for me at the time. Obviously, the show was geared towards little children; the humor, the skits, the puppets, the guests. And “Bro. Fred’s” voice and mannerisms always struck me as a bit effeminate.

Speaking of the foregoing prefix before his name, many people were unaware that Mr. Rogers was actually Rev. Rogers. For you see, Fred was an ordained Presbyterian minister, and to my knowledge, he possessed a calling unlike any other; before or since. Interestingly enough, he had been specially commissioned by his church to host “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood” for the little boys and girls of America.

I have written about Mr. Rogers in the past, having previously read a poignant story of which he was the subject. And come to think about it, I only have “given him the time of day” the past couple of years; (a full decade and a half after his death).

Pt. 2

As I have inferred, I love a particular story I read about Mr. Rogers. I am including that story here.

Anthony Breznican, a senior writer at Entertainment Weekly once experienced a lifetime encounter with Fred Rogers that will restore your faith in humanity. Breznican, like Rogers, hails from Pittsburgh. And like most of us, he grew up watching Mr. Rogers. And then he outgrew him. Until he needed his kindness again, when he was in college.

“As I got older, I lost touch with the show, (which ran until 2001). But one day in college, I rediscovered it. I was having a hard time. The future seemed dark. I was struggling. Lonely. Dealing with a lot of broken pieces, and not adjusting well. I went to Pitt and devoted everything I had to a school paper; hoping it would propel me into some kind of worthwhile future.

It was easy to feel hopeless. During one season of my life it was especially bad. Walking out of my dorm, I heard familiar music.

‘Won’t you be my neighbor?’

The TV was playing in the common room. Mr. Rogers was asking me what I do with the mad I feel. I had lots of ‘mad’ stored up. Still do. It feels so silly to say, but I stood mesmerized. His program felt like a cool hand on my head. I left feeling better.”

Then, days later something amazing happened. Breznican went to step into an elevator. The doors opened, and he found himself looking into the face of Mr. Rogers. Breznican kept it together at first. The two just nodded at each other. But when Mr. Rogers began to walk away, he couldn’t miss the opportunity to say something.

“The doors open. He lets me go out first. I step out, but turn around.

‘Mr. Rogers, I don’t mean to bother you. But I just want to say, Thanks.’

He smiles, but this probably happens to him every ten feet all day long.

‘Did you grow up as one of my neighbors?’

I felt like crying.

‘Yeah. I did.’

With this, Mr. Rogers opened his arms, lifting his satchel, for a hug.

‘It’s good to see you again, neighbor.’

I got to hug Mr. Rogers! This is about the time we both began crying.”

But this story is about to get even better.

“We chatted a few minutes. Then Mr. Rogers started to walk away. After he had taken a couple of steps, I said in a kind of rambling rush that I’d stumbled on the show recently when I really needed it. So, I said, ‘Thanks’ for that. Mr. Rogers paused, and motioned towards the window, and sat down on the ledge.

This is what set Mr. Rogers apart. No one else would have done this. He says,

“Do you want to tell me what is upsetting you?”

So, I sat down. I told him my grandfather had just died. He was one of the good things I had. I felt lost. Brokenhearted. I like to think I didn’t go on and on, but pretty soon he was talking to me about his granddad, and a boat the old man had given to him as a kid.

Mr. Rogers asked how long ago my Pap had died. It had been a couple of months. His grandfather was obviously gone for decades. He still wished the old man was here, and wished he still had the boat.

‘You never really stop missing the people you love,’ Mr. Rogers said.

That boat had been a gift from his grandfather for something. Maybe good grades; something important. Rogers didn’t have the boat anymore, but he had given him his ethic for work.

‘Things, really important things that people leave with us are with us always.’

By this time, I’m sure my eyes looked like stewed tomatoes. Finally, I said, ‘thank you,’ and I apologized if I had made him late for an appointment.

‘Sometimes you’re right where you need to be,’ he said.

Mr. Rogers was there for me. So, here’s my story on the 50^th anniversary of his program for anyone who needs him now. I never saw him again. But that quote about people who are there for you when you’re scared? That’s authentic. That’s who he was. For real.”

Mr. Rogers died in 2003. When Breznican heard the news, he sat down at his computer, and cried. Not over the loss of a celebrity, but a neighbor.

Thank you for being one of those helpers, Mr. Rogers. We hope that somewhere, you’re in a boat with your grandpa again.

(Allison Carter, USA Today)

Pt. 3

There is a new movie out with Tom Hanks called, “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood.” And since I had previously written about Mister Rogers, (a blog that is not included here) I had more than a passing interest in seeing the movie.

Admittedly, I feel a little guilty going to a movie alone these days, as my wife is staying with our grandson, while our daughter is spending a month in Nepal, (yes, Nepal) engaged in doing social work with an NGO there. (But, admittedly, the guilt wasn’t potent enough to preclude me from following through with my plan last night).

Well, so I got dressed, and drove the ten or twelve minutes which separated me from the local theater in time for the first Friday evening premier showing. However, when I arrived, I discovered that the parking lot was full to overflowing, and I surmised that I didn’t want any part of sitting “bunched up” against a person on my left and one on my right, and a theater packed out like sardines in a can. As a result, I had no sooner drove into the “asphalt jungle” that I turned around and drove out of it.

Having arrived home, and put on my jogging shorts and muscle shirt, I debated whether I would “take in” the 10:30pm showing of the movie. I was tired, and I knew my ambition would, no doubt, progressively wane in the two hours which separated me from the process of redressing, getting in the car, and heading back to the theater.

However, as a counselor I tell my clients that there’s a great substitute for ambition, since ambition is little more than an emotion. The substitute? A decision. After all, anything good must be done “on purpose.” Only wrecks happen by accident. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist that little teaching).

Pt. 4

Thus, I made a premeditated decision to take in the late movie. I realized that the theater would be “blown out” on Saturday, and I would find myself in exactly “the same boat” as I experienced the first time that I drove up to the theater.

Throwing my street clothes back on, I walked out the door at 9:55pm, and retraced my route of two hours earlier. Ten minutes later I drove into… an almost empty parking lot, and, as you might expect, I wasn’t complaining.

Exiting the car, I walked the twenty yards which separated me from my quest; the box office window. And as I stepped up to the young lady in the booth, and she looked expectantly at me, waiting for me to announce the movie of my choice, I almost involuntarily began to sing.

(Yeah, I did).

“It’s a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood…”

And then, the slightest bit self-conscious, I mused,

“I bet lots of folks have walked up to you tonight singing that song.”

To which “Anna” replied,

“Ummm. Nope, you’re the first one!”

(Now, I really did feel like a fool. LOL).

Having purchased my ticket, I walked through the front door and into the lobby, had my ticket punched by the attendant, walked to the candy counter, asked for a senior popcorn and coke, paid for my goodies, and proceeded to theater number three; down the hallway, second door on the right.

Pt. 5

Walking into the theater, I found it to be very dark, very quiet, and …very empty.

As a matter of fact, I was the only human being in the whole place! And, as I always do, I climbed the steps of the amphitheater to the top, walked to the middle of the row of seats, and plopped down, dead center; setting my drink in the right holder, and my wallet, and cell phone in the left one. (I am one of those guys who doesn’t like to carry stuff in my pockets. Even when I go to a restaurant, I immediately set the obtrusive items on the table).

Be that as it may, I sat “all by my lonely” on the top row of the theater, as the commercials for upcoming movies ran for 15 plus minutes. However, finally, finally the opening credits of “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood” flickered onto the screen.

And as you might imagine, the first scene had a fairly believable Tom Hanks, portraying Mr. Rogers, walking through the door of his “play room,” opening a nearby closet, exchanging his suit coat for a red sweater, and taking off his street shoes, and replacing them with sneakers.

To be fair, I thought the well-known actor’s attempt to replicate Mr. Rogers’ voice was slightly contrived, (but perhaps only slightly). At the same time, he looked enough like “the real McCoy” for this audience of one to settle in, and absorb the plot and implications of the movie.

And without absolutely spoiling it for you, suffice it to say that the plot centered around a fella named Tom Junod, (though he assumes a different name in the film), an Esquire magazine journalist, and his relationship with Mr. Rogers; (which all began when the former contacted the latter for an interview).

Ultimately, this interview was titled, “Can You Say…Hero?” and became the feature story for the November 1998 issue of Esquire magazine, and featured (there’s that word again) the beaming image of Mr. Rogers on the cover.

Pt. 6

And again, without giving away anything, Mr. Rogers made a profound difference in Tom Junod’s life, and for that matter, the life of his entire family. He made a difference in many lives that God set in his pathway.

There was an exchange in the movie in which our “hero” is speaking on the phone with the foregoing journalist, and he says,

“Do you know who the most important person in my life is, Tom?”

And perhaps Junod merely responded with, “Who?”

And with a twinkle in his eye, and a slight catch in his characteristic voice, Mr. Rogers replies,

“Well, at this very moment, Tom, you are the most important person in my life!”

I think that’s how he made you feel. Yes, I think that’s how he made you feel. As if for that moment in time, you were the only person who really mattered to him.

I felt very much this way when I paraphrased the Book of Philippians; (years before I paraphrased the entire New Testament). It was as if I was given the wherewithal to walk into Paul’s Roman cell, and sit down beside him, and talk with him about his life, and impact and suffering, to know him as my friend and brother, and to realize his compassion and joy in spite of the circumstances which surrounded him.

Following is a poignant reminiscence from an article about Mr. Rogers.

“Every morning, when he swims, he steps on a scale in his bathing suit and his bathing cap and his goggles, and the scale tells him he weighs 143 pounds. This has happened so many times that Mister Rogers has come to see that number as a gift, as a destiny fulfilled, because, as he says,

‘the number 143 means I love you. It takes one letter to say I, and four letters to say love, and three letters to say you. One hundred and forty-three. I love you. Isn't that wonderful?’”

Pt. 7

And now, the movie finally drew to a close, and I hesitated to leave. After stuffing my wallet and cell phone back into my pockets, I ambled down the long flight of steps, and paused to see if any actual footage of the “real” Mister Rogers would appear on the screen. And, in fact, it did.

There he was standing in his element, in his little “play room” with his puppets, and lighting up his little world with that memorable smile.

Now, I walked down the long hallway which led out of the very dark, very quiet and… very empty theater. And as I walked out the door, and into the lobby of the place, I could still hear the closing song as it trailed off behind me.Top of Form

It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood
A beautiful day for a neighbor
Could you be mine?
Would you be mine?

Let's make the most of this beautiful day
Since we're together, might as well say
Would you be my, could you be my
Won't you be my neighbor?

A lone security guard greeted me, as I neared the exit of the building. The lights were turned down low. No one was behind the candy counter, and the ushers were, by now, heating up their TV dinners, or turning in for the night.

And now, I pushed open the exit door, and stepped out into the street. And a penetrating moment of sadness suddenly overwhelmed me.

I can’t really account for why I experienced that fleeting emotion. Perhaps it had something to do with the poignancy of losing anyone so singular as this man happened to be, and who had impacted several generations of children. 


Children who ultimately became fathers and mothers, and subsequently, grandfathers and grandmothers; while their own children and grandchildren continued to be entertained by the same humble little man; who to children presented as an adult, and who to adults seemed almost childlike.

So much like the journalist, I felt almost as if I had been granted my own personal interview with Mister Rogers. After all, I had been the only human being within fifty feet in any direction, and I experienced a strange sensation that this man had set aside a bit of his valuable time, as he did with countless other people during his lifetime… for me.

And perhaps during those few moments which he granted me, I was, indeed, the most important person in his life.


*Tom Hanks was recently informed that he and Mister Rogers are 6^th cousins. No wonder they look alike.


By William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending

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