Living Hazzardously

Little pieces of our journey with Jesus

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Gravel in a bucket

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This morning after breakfast, Jess looks at me with her peaceful eyes and asks, “Can you roll your shoulders like this?” as she rolls her shoulders, I mimicked her motions with a simple “Yup, sure can!” then she asked “When you do it, does it make any popping?” I just looked at her and giggled “Oh I wish it was just popping, for me its like gravel shaken in a bucket”

I have more work than I can get accomplished up here, I haven’t been able to catch up for months and I still can’t seem to get to regular check-ups on furnaces… this week? Same old thing, calling customers and telling them “Thank you for being patient, but I won’t be able to get to you this week, again…”

I had a Dr appointment this past Friday, after a long week of working, and I knew what I would hear… “Yup, you still need a knee replacement” to which I say, “Is there anything we can do to delay the inevitable?” With Jess by my side we decided to move forward on “the sandwich” as he put it… an injection of steroids followed by chicken gel and then another steroid injection… 

As we talked, we discussed what the future will bring and why I should have never had the previous two knee scopes, and how those scopes have destroyed my knee. We talked about how long I will be unable to perform my work and what the future will hold for us. And as a “one man shop” how I need to find help that doesn’t really exist in the north woods… Getting a knee replacement now would pretty much end Spring Lake Heating and Air, as I would be laid up for 6 months, and perhaps a year before I can do my job in a half way decent manner…Maybe even longer before I can not crawl around on my knees. 

When I hit 40, my eyes no longer worked as I thought they should, but I adapted with the use of modern technology called the “magnifier app” on my phone. At 45, I noticed my shoulders started to ache when I used the 36’ pipe wrenches. At 50 I had a big party, and could no longer bend down to tie my shoes. At 51 I noticed I needed to use my arms to stand up from kneeling… At 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57… THE SCOPE… 2 knee operations and carpel tunnel surgery on both hands. 58? well that’s today, I’m hoping to hit 60 before a knee replacement and praying I don’t destroy my other knee from overuse… life is funny, or is it hard?

So on my hunt for the right younger man to mentor into HVAC begins. I’ve learned so much as I was just another “tool” for corporate America. I know how to not destroy my body from overuse, I know corporate America only cares about what you can give them and I’ve learned that family needs to be valued more in our culture. But I have also learned that the work ethics of the GEN-X have indeed been replaced, the new focus seems to be on “self” rather than serving… serving family, serving spouse, serving children, serving those in need. I don’t want to bang the gong of “the new generation is so much worse than my generation” but on the flip side, the new generations generally don’t seem to have that same self motivation to accomplish whatever it takes to be a success… maybe I am misguided and wrong?

So where does this leave me? What was my point? Well, I guess I just want to end with this… Friday we went to the DR, Jess is so awesome as she asks great questions and records all the details. I stated what our goals are and the Dr gives us what options may work best, “TEAM WORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK”… After the Dr we stop for a quick lunch on our 2.5 hour drive home. My knee is aching from the injection, we arrive at Sam’s Place to prepare a room for the new guy that we are picking up on Saturday. Saturday we drove down to find “the new guy”.

“Ok, we are looking for a small wooden shed” and right on que, there it is. As he stands with his 4 bags, we can see he is ready to depart the small wooden shed with no insulation, no kitchen, no water or plumbing. Winter is closing in fast, minus 40 is just around the corner… after we set him up in his new room, finish the hours of paperwork and jump in the van to head home…

I pick up the work phone & dial a phone number… “Hi John? Charlie here, I know it’s getting late but I have all the parts we need and I know you need to pack up the cabin for the winter, so I am headed your way tonight still, I kind of got delayed… no, I’m still coming, I should be there by 6 pm, ohh it’s no problem at all, see you soon!”

After I wrap up my last bit of work for the night, Jess and I reflect on the last two days and decide… It’s all worth it! Tomorrow is Sunday and God always provides for us. He sustains us and gives us everything we need. I just wish I didn’t have so many cars and trucks that require my attention. Did I mention winter is coming and the plow truck isn’t running? Well, I guess I can run the bobcat until I can fix the truck. Now, ask me next week if it’s all worth it? All I have to do is see the hope, the relief from “shed life” a safe clean home with meals, and a gentle word from one of our residents “thanks” and I will say to Jess again, “its definitely worth it”

Lev 25:35 ‘Now in case a countryman of yours becomes poor and his means among you falter, then you are to sustain him, like a stranger or a resident, so that he may live with you.

Have a blessed day, C

nobody missed him

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I was reading today about a man named Chase. Chase was not from our area but could easily be one of many folks around your very own neighborhood. He could have been the retired “hermit” in the north woods, the “bum” you saw outside Target today, the woman pushing a stroller that holds all her worldly possessions as she walked along the road, or the grandmother that got scammed for all she had in life. 

Chase was challenged in this world to “fit in” he wasn’t trying to be “odd” he wasn’t trying to be a burden, he wasn’t trying to scare you and he wasn’t trying to “ruin your neighborhood”…  He did get into trouble, he did steal from time to time, he did ask you to help him… He did smell funky, he did look unkept, He did have value. 

Chase died alone, behind a Target store, nobody knew he was dead, nobody missed him. He was discovered days later, by accident. 

This story is all too common, our system is broken, so many “un-homed persons” are given a huge check each month. Spending this check in only a few days, maybe getting a motel room for a night to shower and sleep like royalty. As they slip over to the local homeless shelter to wash clothes for free, get a free meal from the mission or local “community action” group. Eventually, this outcast will head back over to the corner of the county park, set up as a “tent city”… Month after month, year after year until one day, after seeking shelter in a fish house in the back yard of a local person, they quietly die and are discovered days or weeks later as the owner starts setting up his spear house for that big muskie. 

Yes, many times this person will take advantage of everyone. Whether you are trying to help them or just ignore them, so often they will burn every bridge. BUT there is always that one “inconvenient truth”… Our government will pay them to be homeless! That’s right! Living on the streets is much more profitable that taking up residency in a home where people care and love them….

If I can get $1000.00 and get handouts for dinner, free clothes, as many tents and blankets as I want… Or, go to a house and pay $600.00 in rent, that only leaves $400.00 for smokes, food, utilities and “habits”… Loosing all the free stuff? Living in the county park for free, the freedom to go anywhere at anytime, folks buying you a meal at a restaurant you cant  afford…. You might learn pretty fast how to manipulate the world too. 

Don’t get me wrong, every homeless person we encounter that chooses to be on the streets has a counterpart that works to get off the streets…  It’s not a one size fits all equation. 

But the reality is this, it’s a challenge to be homeless, but many would rather be homeless and have the monthly paycheck than to live in a house or apartment and give that paycheck to a landlord. 

I think our government should start attending “co-dependent” counseling and learn a bit about “enabling”. I am no “expert” by any stretch, but the solution is not more money poured into a system that clearly doesn’t work! 

What was the ancient proverb? “Doing the exact same thing over and over and expecting different results each time is the true definition of insanity”?

Sam’s Place is one place that is trying to make a difference. We are not operating on some big budget, In fact it costs Jess and I every month to keep our doors open, yes, I pay to keep it going. One day we know we will reach a net zero, one day we know we will get to the point of making a difference and hopefully we will one day be able to reduce our rent price and meet those folks that “don’t fit into society”… I hope one day read about the Chases of this world, and how a small act of caring and kindness helped them overcome the challenges they face daily and become a vital part of society that gives back to the next person in the line of despair and solitude. 

Not everyone that dies alone behind Target has to be there or should be there! 

A young man that was brilliant, started his masters degree, excelled in mathematics, theoretical math, but struggled to fit into the society around him. A man of 60 plus, another brilliant mind, who lived behind his mothers house in a camper for two years, but never fit into the cookie cutter world we have. Another man who finished his degree with top honors and found himself alone and hearing voices, losing touch with reality, collecting pop cans. A mother who can’t get along with people, not receiving help because she doesn’t exactly fit the bill, she is almost to the point of getting help but doesn’t qualify. The motivated person who did some bad drugs and now lives with the constant looming cloud they may very well one day slip away into a psychosis that never ends. 

We can’t help everyone, and not everyone can be helped by Sam’s Place, but we can help 15, we can help some become stable, independent and some to just be safe and loved. 

Sam’s Place can’t change the entire world, but it can help change the lives of those we serve. Maybe one day, we can help more “brothers and sister” that are ready to come in out of the rain, a retired “man or lady” that is looking to find a home that doesn’t break the bank, a “cousin” that suffers from childhood trauma and needs a safe, secure place to live… At Sam’s Place, we don’t just take the ones that are homeless, outcast and don’t fit in, we take anyone that is looking for a loving home, but they must want to succeed, be safe and live clean. 

God blessed you, if you can read this, God has blessed you. C

The lawn chair that stole me beer

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I just don’t know what year it was but I remember the situation like it was only yesterday. I was sitting in a lawn chair, I don’t remember where, I just remember saying “WHY?”

Rewind to the late 1990’s, I was a garbage man. I was working for an outfit in Eagan MN and living in Anoka MN, a distance of about 40 miles, directly through the heart of the city.

After driving to work at 2 am, I would hop into my 50,000 lbs truck and hurl it through the back alleys and driveways of the Minneapolis and St Paul metro area, reaching speeds of 20 miles per hour past telephone poles that are inches away from the mirrors, stopping and dragging dumpsters out into the alley across snow banks and avoiding racoons and rats on a daily basis… I could tell you hundreds of stories… The prostitute trying to stay warm on a cold winter night. The cat carcass that was obviously served for dinner the night before… So much more… but I am not here to tell the horror stories of hauling trash on the UofM campus where the hot tub party was in full swing as I backed into the dumpster at 4:30 am…. Or ending my day at about 1 pm, just to drive another hour to get home… or maybe not drive home. Maybe I decided to stop off with the guys for a cold beverage… finally heading home at 7pm…

That is not the story I am here to tell you about, I’m here to tell you about the hope I was given in a new life.

I continued this pattern of consuming the “COLD LIBATIONS” well past my garbage days, into my new career of HVAC. Day after day, Night after night…Monday night football means a case of Michelob Golden and snacky foods, a bag of chips, a fresh smoked goose or a deep fried turkey… Some days the boys would be with me and others I went alone, but never would I miss a Monday night football game… I told myself “this is the one night out of seven that’s MINE!

MY NIGHT, truth be told, I was able to not drink most evenings, instead I would fix the house, take the boys camping and still drink every other night I could. I would tell myself “as long as I don’t start drinking alone, I am not a drunk bum or alchy”. I remembered my father, and how every Wednesday night he had his “ONE DAY”. The one day he would turn onto a bike path on the way home down the parkway, or run into every curb with that right front tire, making a miscalculation on every turn….  I never knew I would be like him, drunk one night a week. I wouldn’t know how much I drank and “DIDNT GET DRUNK” until my eyes were opened to the truth. 

The eye opening started one night in Eagan, at a “buddies” house, eating deep fried anything, drinking until it was time to leave as Monday night football concluded for the night. I was living in Ramsey at that point, just a few miles further now. I wasn’t drunk, I just had a few. I was feeling sick, I must have eaten something that didn’t settle. I struggled to see the road as it was moving all over the place on that clear summer evening. As I crossed the river on MN77 (Cedar Ave) I felt the welling up from deep inside, but like the good drunk I had become, slowly and steadily, I overcame the issue, grabbing a jacket to mop up the mess I just made all over the steering wheel, dash board and seat… I GOT THIS MAN!!! 

I sat years later, reflecting on that night, reflecting on my class reunion, reflecting on my wallet…Remeber? I was sitting in the lawn chair, and I asked “WHY?” I sat holding a half downed can of Budweiser, I looked at it and said “WHY”. I set it down, I looked at it, I remembered all the good times I had because of the bottle, can or mixer… never have I had a moment so clear in my life… never touched a drop after that, but the temptation, coercion and manipulations were just starting… The sideways look from the guys you work with when you say “No thanks, I don’t go to bars” like it’s some sort of perverse character flaw. The gal at work that’s flirtatious and asks you out to have drinks at her place… The ex wife that screams “YOU USED TO BE FUN BEFORE YOU QUIT DRINKING”… 

And still, the Lord held my hand stronger and whispered softly… “I won’t stop you, but you have the choice to not drink, to change your life, to be a good father, to be clean”

That last beer was probably around the year 2008, I am only guessing from circumstances I remember in our life. So I’m not exactly positive what year or what date, It wasn’t a date I thought to mark down, record or celebrate like so many other folks can do. To me? I just stopped drinking in a super natural way that can only be credited to the Lord of Lords, King of Kings, the almighty God, creator of heaven and earth, creator of me and you! I take no credit aside from giving up the fight and listening to the “TRUTH”. A small voice that called me out of darkness and into the light. 

I hope my testimony finds you well. I pray you can know the hope I had on that fate filled lawn chair, somewhere in Minnesota when I looked at that can of beer and said one simple word “WHY?”

May God richly bless you on the beautiful Sunday morning. C