iPandora

Abraham Lincon's deathbed

Just finished watching “My Sister’s Keeper” with my wife and promised her, if she ever became like the mom, Sara, I’d tell her a thing or two and not let her get away with it.

What I pondered most about the movie, though, was not the selfishness of the mother, the hole she was digging for herself primarily with her own inability to solve the problem she so desperately wanted to solve and the inevitable self-destruction that would escalate severely after her daughter died. It was the scene towards the end when all the family are hanging together around Kate’s bedside and they’re telling her to think about her body killing the cancer cells, think of getting strong and healthy again and picturing a happy, healthy, and long life alive on this earth. The family kept telling her to promise them she’d think about becoming healthy.

Being positive is a positive thing. But is being realistic, or even negative, a negative thing?

Oooh, a conundrum! And elitists the world over like to call Conservative Christians so very black and white in their small minds.

Well, this small mind is fairly crackling over the profundities of that conundrum.

Looking at Sara, the mother, we see an unhealthily positive woman. She was so very certain her daughter would live. She’d been driving her entire life and her family’s life, and anybody else she could get to orbit around her with this singular focus for 14 years. Her steadfast focus was a good thing in the beginning. It is important when beginning a fight to have hope and a high aim driving us. But as the fight wears on, even the wise become careful in their aims.

When Aragorn, after the battle of Pellenor Fields, considers the necessity of a distracting engagement at the very Black Gates of Mordor, he has no false hope of the potential success of this expedition. In a story characterized by great and lofty hope, the scene is singularly grim. Their doom is certain. The hearty heroes knew each of their own lives were secondary to the survival of the race of men free of Sauron’s bile, and then entertained no vain assumptions of their own longevity. In that last desperate moment the driving force was necessity and gritty determination rather hope for success.

Barbara Ehrenreich has a new book out about the perils of positive thinking. Emily Wilson, on AlterNet explains an important difference:

Positive thinking is different, she says, from being cheerful or good-natured — it’s believing that the world is shaped by our wants and desires and that by focusing on the good, the bad ceases to exist.

Focusing on the unattainable, when we know it is unattainable, is unhealthy. Focusing on the realistic future and making the best of it is very healthy. If that future is dire, go to it with a song and a good friend.

But I don’t want to just critique the destructive and desperate mother and her dangerous desires, I want to talk about those awkward relatives in the hospital room trying to make light of these few fleeting and final hours.

I have not expertise in this matter. Only a few close friends of mine have died, but I was not at any of their bedsides. Grandparents have passed on, but, unfortunately, in each case I wasn’t really close to them at the time of death and I was not at any of their bedsides either.

But it seems to me that, were I dying and it was obvious the end was soon, I’d prefer people to be honest about it, not dwelling on that fact, but not avoiding it awkwardly.

Obviously, the religious beliefs of the involved people would have a significant impact on the available subjects. If I were the one dying, I’d appreciate people being hopeful in the Christian sense. Appreciating a life lived for God and speculating on what I’d see after I’d shuffled off this mortal coil. If at the bedside of a dying Christian, I’d want to exude that hope as an encouragement to others in the room.

If I were at the bedside of an unsaved person dying, I’d want to capitalize on those last few moments to ensure they were aware, so far as I was able, of the true nature of life, it’s purpose, and the true God.

In all cases I’d want to make memories and recall old memories. The dying do not need new memories, they are for the living. There will be plenty of time for crying after the dying are gone, they’ve probably already shed their tears and would probably be happy for a pleasant escape. Save the funeral until after they’re gone.

As a Christian I have a powerful hope that carries me through (not above) any struggle. I know the worst that can occur is that I lose this paltry, meager, and short life here on this earth. Once it’s gone, it’s gone, and good riddance. I want heaven and real, true, immediate fellowship with my God and Savior and all those who have gone before. Matt Kelly still has to teach me how to shave with a straight blade.

So death for me is just a doorway, a passage. Like the passage around Cape Horn it is difficult and often fraught with pain and heartache. And like the passage around Cape Horn it is soon over.

So what would I say to a dying person?

I don’t know. I feel all I have here is a list of do’s and don’ts. Guidelines, more like.

One thing’s for sure, I won’t be talking about how the human mind can will the body to health. Medicine does that, and God does.

So what would you say to a dying person? Or even better, what have you said to a dying person?

This is not Hugh O'Shaughnessy

Sometimes the cynics are so ludicrous you can’t help but laugh. It’s the only thing you can do in the face of huffy and misguided rants such as this one:

No one who surveys the statistics of abortion in the US and the wider world can in conscience express anything but horror at the increasing casualness with which this action is being performed.

But must one not be equally horrified by the fact that the signatories chose to make no reference to the evident evil committed by the US government and its allies in their illegal invasion of Iraq?

Hugh O’Shaughnessy of the Times of London posts this piece of precious pomposity under the title “A Declaration Of Hypocrisy” and his (initial) aim is at what he considers the nefarious religious right and the the recently revealed Manhattan Declaration, which is an attempt to codify and unify support for the goals of protection of all human life, protection of traditional marriage, and protection of the rights of conscience and religious liberty.

The Manhattan Declaration appears to be a worthwhile document with a strong backing from such leaders as Charles Colson, Kay Arthur, Joel Belz, Dr. James Dobson, and many other leaders of the Catholic and protestant faiths.

Hugh’s connection of the Manhattan signers support of pro-life measures and their support for the war in Iraq appears to be entirely founded on the bug bears of Abu Graib and Fallujah:

Tell me, Your Eminences, why did you achieve nothing effective in “defence of life” during the illegal invasion of Iraq and its attendant massacres? Why, Mr Colson, did you do nothing “in defence of marriage … and freedom of conscience” when Iraqis were being deprived – temporarily or for ever – of their spouses and children of their parents at the hands of the torturers of Abu Ghraib?

Go ahead and read the whole thing, it’s not very long and none of it is very bright. But hey, you may laugh, it’s just that bad.

Grandfather's Love

I’ll be away from computers most of the rest of this week.

My grandfather died last Saturday. He will be missed.

A veteran of the Korean War, father to a large family, including my mother, and kindly grandfather who made many memories with his many grandchildren.

He was a devout Catholic.

God has made it possible for me to drive down to San Antonio Texas to attend his funeral and see my extended family again. Though it will only be me, and not my wife, Grace, or our child, William.

So I’ll not be around here to post, likely.

Though I’d appreciate your prayers of safety for myself on the road, and for my wife and child as they stay up here in Chicago.

Update: My grandpa was a veteran of WWII, not the Korean war as noted.

Death

The days dim and shorten. The winds build and sharpen.

Death is everywhere about me as trees bid farewell to leaves that sheltered and fed them and grasses brown and say adieu to the mites who played about them.

Fields dim and then burn with radiant bursts of captured sunlight reflecting back in another fond farewell to the brilliant sky above.

There is everywhere a keening and weeping as vibrant nature shudders and gasps, falters and falls to her knees.

The hardy pine and weathered holly , the cheerful cardinal alone keep me company.

It is a good book and a deep drought of sharp air that open my mind to realms beyond the tightening round of the shrinking world.

Soon enough the hoary blanket will fall again and this great circle will complete once again.

Death to death, birth to birth, and in and out again we cycle through the ever new and ever ancient panes of our small lives here on this discord-bound globe, whirling over and over  from old to new and from new to old, and on again.

The exit is not yet for me, my path is not yet worn deep enough. His plans are still before me. And yet, for a time, surrounded by the death of nature I wonder. Beyond this small but too big life is a forest yet unexplored, a nature not yet discovered. There a paths not yet trod and rivers never before drunk.

But it is not for me. Not yet.

Life into death and death into life goes the circle again, and I, still on this meager sphere have paths before me still to travel.

Nature turns, the death rattle in her throat, and whispers after me as I turn away. Her words are born away by cruel wind and a bitter sun jests with the nervous clouds above.

Death into life will come around again and the frosted earth will thaw in time.

I will wait.

Senator Edward Kennedy

Read Shattered China’s obituary to the man, the icon, here.

I heard of Senator Kennedy’s death this morning, not from the news, but from a good friend I was sharing breakfast with. And he said he wished he could be as Kennedy was, To his last breath, For what he believed.

For the sake of this argument we must accept and then put behind us the facts of this immoral, philandering, leacherous and treacherous man’s ways and means. There, now put that aside.

You’ve got to respect the man who never lost sight of what he believed in. Whether his own personal fame, power for his family name, success for his social(ist) ideas, history to be unable to forget him, his goals were never forgotten.

He could’ve set things aside at 60. His family will never want for wealth or position. He’d be feted at balls and parties, there would always be women willing and ready to bed him. For all intents and purposes he had it made.

But he didn’t stop.

He would work until he fell out of his chair, and then he’d work from his hospital bed tirelessly trying to secure the success of his plans and perversions.

If only.

If only he’d been strong for the right. Not the political right, the Lord’s right.

But there is us.

I am called to do no less for Christ than Senator Kennedy did for himself.

To fight with all I have, to struggle with all my might. And when my might is spent, to lean on the Lord for strength and continue on fighting.

May we all be the man Kennedy would’ve been had he been redeemed through the body and the blood of our gracious and merciful Lord Jesus Christ. Giving our everything and our all to Him and His glory.

May I be Christian to my last breath.

Senator Kennedy has died . . . and all I can say is what a relief for the country.

Sure, he is being labeled as one of the best Senators at working across the isle. Sure he is being called an advocate of the poor and needy (Do they really need another advocate? What about an advocate for the middle class?), but does any of that really overshadow his moral bankruptcy and the political corruption that some called “savvy”?

If I might remind you, Senator Kennedy “forgot” to tell authorities that he was driving the car when it fell off the bridge with a girl inside (Anyone remember the bumper stickers that said “My guns has killed less people that Senator Kennedy’s car”?), he screwed intern in the back of restaurants, and most recently he called for the rules regarding his replacement be changed . . . after he had changed them to their current standard in 2005.

Yes, Senator Kennedy did so, so, so much to help the poor and needy? But did he do it for them, or to secure his political future (the vote)? Yes, Senator Kennedy did so much good, but did he ever resolve that he was a lying perverted cheat who was charged with manslaughter?

Actually, even though I believe that he should have been disqualified for public office, he doesn’t have to resolve the lying perverting cheater part with us . . . he is now before a much larger judge . . . with a case that I am afraid he will lose.

So, now we are approached with the “icon” label . . . but is he an icon to the Kopechne family . . . among others (read about the rape incidents by his nephew that took place at his home). What really makes Senator Kennedy an icon? Fighting the war in Iraq so that millions of people could remain in a tyrannical dictatorship, being unable to do his job but refusing to resign, changing laws to fit his political needs?

Wait, I think I may have to recant my statement. Let us label Senator Kennedy as an icon. Let us proclaim his as the leader, the head, the top gun. That is right, Senator Kennedy is iconic of our legislative system and our representatives (not all of them, just too many of them).

I will let Senator Kennedy be an icon, he just will not be my icon. He will not represent me. He has his place in our history . . . but his story ends there. His only legacy is one echoed by corruption in Washington, by tears in Chappaquiddick, and the groans of the middle class.

Matthew William Kelly Bedford

After 14 hours in labor, my wife Grace gave birth to the most beautiful baby boy.

Matthew William Kelly Bedford is named after a dear friend of ours who was called home to be with our Lord not quite 1 year ago.

I only hope that this little man will grow into the true man that was, and is, Matthew William Kelly.

For those who like details. Matthew weighed 8lbs 6 oz, 20in long. He has a Bedford face but borrows his nose and mouth creasing from his mother. My dad says the nose is also his mothers.

He was very alert and inquisitive from the get go, earning an APGAR score of 9. He smiled for mother and will follow us with his eyes. He likes being sung to. And I was overwhelmed with emotion when he was born.

Something that struck me is how much birth must be like death: The womb seems safe and good and a nice place to spend your life, and birth is this scary thing. All of a sudden your senses are bombarded with light and noise and pain and… more. More than you’d experienced ever before.

The womb was good, but it was temporary. A place of preparation. Preparation for life.

Then life become comfortable, known, expected. Life is good enough, full enough, and not long enough. And we fear death.

Once we die, I believe we’ll experience sensations we’ve never experienced before. The sounds and sights, smells, and sensations we’ve experienced in life will seem like the dull sensations of the womb.

Life is good, but it is temporary. A place of preparation. Preparation for…

It’s been all over the place and most everybody has the same thoughts: the world has lost wonderful talent as it has lost Michael Jackson.

Conservatives, Liberals, Christians, Heathens alike are, for the most part, mourning the loss of this skilled musician.

Mike Gallagher was the first I heard to ask the question: Why are we remembering only the talent and the skillful music made by this man?

Let me get the boiler plate out of the way: The death of anybody is sad. If a Christian dies, there is the grief of loss here on earth, but the balancing joy knowing they are truly home at last and that our grief ought to be for ourselves still toiling here away from our true home. When an unrepentant sinner dies, the grief is much worse. There is no welcome for this person. There is simply the immediate inability to deny God any longer as the force of His self and all His holy attributes is no longer held off by the rationalizing mind and the containing body.

There is no reasonable evidence Michael Jackson accepted the saving Grace of Jesus Christ prior to his death.

There is always hope: he may have, on his deathbed, cried out to an ever-waiting and ever-listening andever-ready Jesus. If this is the case, we’ll know when we get to heaven.

But for now, it is reasonable, from human judgement, to assume Michael Jackson died with the full guilt of his own sins resting weightily upon his own, weak, shoulders.

Sin is sin, and there is no variance to it’s result. The Hitler’s of this world will suffer the same intermnible punishment meted out by the same just God for the same rejection of the same Holiness as the girl and boy blown up because they were too close to the exploding suicide bomber on their way to market in Fallujah.

But human’s judge variance in sin, because we must rationalize our own faults as not being “that bad.” And because we must restrain and punish those whose actions convey and cause inordinate danger to those around them.

Michael Jackson was a sinner.

There is little doubt he was a pedophile: His grown up sexual appetite coupled with his child-like and stunted emotional state and the stories of the several young boys with whom he slept and subsequently paid off leave little room for exhonoration.

As a society of justice we punish those who hurt and damage others by their actions. Those who prey sexually on the young damage those children’s ability to grow normally and lead productive lives, and so we punish them severely.

And when pedophiles die, we don’t celebrate them as an entire society.

I don’t advocate burning Michael Jackson’s music or videos. There is no purpose served by destroying it.

But his life isn’t worth celebrating. He made some ok music. He had some cool moves on the dance floor.

But he sexually assaulted young boys to satisfy himself as he was unable, in his stunted mind, to appreciate their future.

And so now, barring a hopeful miracle, he is facing God.

God isn’t playing reel-to-reel Thriller.

God is asking him for an account of his life.

It is with grief for the true loss of a life precious to the Lord God that I say, I fear it is going poorly for Michael Jackson.

So, the swine flu is going to kill you, right?

Let me put this into perspective. Right now there are about 160 reported deaths from the swine flu world wide. This is not the number infected, but the number killed. But what does this number really mean.

First, compare this 160 deaths world wide to the 36,000 people who die each year in the U.S. to the common flu. In other words we are more worried about a disease that is at least 225 time less likely to kill us then the common flu.

So how has this flu affected the world population of over 6 billion people? Well, run the math and you realize that only .000002% of the world population has died from this disease, as opposed to the .01% of the world population that has been killed by genocide in Sudan since 2003 (675,000).

So why is there the worry? By last numbers there is between 2600 and 2700 reported cases of this flu for which there is supposedly no natural immunity. The fear is that a single sneeze could effect hundreds of people which could lead to a pandemic.

It is time for brief lesson on disease. Most  diseases inhabit our body for at least a day before they exhibit symptoms. This is because the symptoms are usually the result of the disease attacking our body and our body using its resources to attack the disease. In fact, for many cases of the common cold, by the time you exhibit symptoms, the cold is already destroyed in your body and your body is just tired from the fight.

So, I get the swine flu and a day later I exhibit symptoms and am quarantined, etc. How many people did I interact with the day before? How many hands did I shake? How many times did I lick my finger and rub it against something?

How many people did those 2700 confirmed cases interact with before (and even after) the disease surfaced? I would estimate about 54,000 people (20 interactions per person). So why aren’t there 54,000 people infected. Why aren’t we all wiped out as our body has “no natural defenses”?

The reason is because this is a created or imagined disease. It is sort of like the monster you feared when you were younger because you believed he was in your closet. There was some minimal evidence of a monster (boards creaking, darkness), but the reality was that your mind created the monster and cause you to be afraid of him.

So we have this monster before us. There is some evidence before us as we look at the deaths and infections, but the reality is that we have allowed ourselves to be scared into a fear. The media has become our brain as they show pictures of people wiping the legs of a school desk (honestly, who will be licking the legs of a school desk?) and have traveled to Mexico to show the place this all started and have told us that buildings have been shut down for this virus.

This is the monster that we have allowed our brain to create a monster for us where, in reality, there is nothing (or almost nothing). Sure, we should be concerned about this, but worried? No way.

In fact, what this really reminds me of is the movie “Wag the Dog”. Anyone seen it? The premise is that a “war” is made up by the political administration so that people will be distracted from the real issues surrounding the administration. Our media, finding nothing to report on the administration (since the administration is doing nothing good, but the media can’t report that) needed something else to scare us with. Something to distract us from the real news. Their answer . . . Thank God for Swine Flu!

The reality is that AIDS and HIV continue to kill millions, genocide continues to be acceptable in Africa, abortions of black babies continues to exceed the number of live births of black babies, and we recently rewarded large companies dieing in a capitalist society by changing the rules for them. But no, the real news that we should all “obviously” be worried about is that a disease that pales in comparison to any other disaster we have been facing for years may be sitting at our door ready to pounce on us when we are not looking.

The story about the retirees refusing to allow their pup Lancelot to shuffle off this mortal coil when his natural life ended by ordering Lancelot Encore (cute puppy pictures), the first one-off, made to order, cloned animal, is interesting to me more for what it says about the older couple, Ed and Nina, than what it says about technology.

Cloning is old hat. It’s been going on for some time successfully now. The news nature of this comes from the fact a person was able to pay lots of money and get a “copy” of their preferred pooch. It’s an “Imaging that” kind of thing, nothing more, from the technology side.

But the couple intrigue me.

Have you ever experienced an idyllic situation? The light is just right, the leaves in the trees, the grass under your feet, the water of the river and the touch of sand in the barbeque. We want them to continue forever. We desire to hold onto these minutes and relish the moments as they fly inexorably onward, until we’re packing the car again and driving home and back to work grind on Monday.

There is an undeniable desire to freeze frame life and contain the moments that we find are perfect. But life keeps moving and so must we.

Miss Havisham perpetually in her moth eaten wedding dress with the rotten cake would have cloned her beloved had she the change.

And so the Otto family have become the Miss Havisham of our age. Technology can fix everything, including bringing the dead back to life.

When we insist on living “as things were” we deprive ourselves of our future. When we insist on constraining our lives to some eternal “present perfect” we forego any growth, sorrow, or joy or the other parts of life which are necessary for normal human function.

Humans may wish for an eternal ideal, for that perfect time. However, we need the eternal change and constant motion through which this world functions. To hold onto things which must change, forcing them through our own force of will to remain unchanged, is to deny our own humanity and to fade from the real life which would beckon us onward.

Death is as much a part of life as life itself. Not in an Eastern Yin/Yang way, but in a Western form of closure. We begin, we pass, and we end. Everything in our life follows the same path on different time tables.

And so the Otto family have relegated themselves to the eternal past. They may continue to grow old and pass through this world, but they have achieved no nirvana or eternal blissful stasis.

Lancelot Encore will die too. None of are god enough to prevent that. And Ed and Nina will together sit in their moth-eaten wedding dress beside their rotten wedding cake, watching out the window with hope that Lancelot will once again run through their lives.

It’s not happiness, it’s Havisham.