The human brain is wired to think in terms of story says Mark Turner, author of “A Literary Mind.” Most popular speakers as well as major religions actually incorporate their messages into narratives. Jesus told parables because he understood the powerful significance of story. Drama, characters, and adventure are excellent venues for teaching and learning. Now, more than ever, it is important to tell your stories for they are a powerful legacy.
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Story is our way of processing. Narrative creates meaning through the connection of stories that we tell ourselves as well as those told to us. The genre may vary, but the telling is constant. It is a mental activity essential for thought. In a statement attributed to Elie Wiesel, author and Holocaust survivor, “God made man because He loves stories.”

Start your personal collection. Here’s one of mine:
I recall the time I inadvertently kicked baby Jesus. My 18-month-old granddaughter, Hazel Ruth, had been playing with the plastic nativity set and dropped the pieces on the floor. The baby Jesus somehow ended up underneath the sofa. In passing, my foot grazed the plastic object and sent it twirling noisily across the living room floor. As the missing piece was returned to the manager, my little granddaughter said, “It’s okay, baby home now.” Deeper reflection of this event revealed that adversity may just be the kick we need to find our way home.

Sometimes the message is through you; other times it is to you. Perhaps it’s possible to grow faith in a dirt-load of sorrow. The issue of empowerment lies in the ability to choose your story, to be more of a creator than a victim. Stop blaming the driver for the curves in the road. Don’t wear your wounds, they aren’t medals. Mark Twain is quoted as saying, “Writing is easy. All you have to do is cross out the wrong words.”
In our present culture, what has no price tag seems to have no measurable value. I will admit my notion of currency is tarnished. Goals seem attached to immediate desires. It’s easy to forget that “We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.” (Philip James Bailey)

Subtle transformations require pause. So, I pause in this moment, praising the good Lord for the interval of summer. “We know we cannot plant seeds with closed fists. To sow, we must open our hands.” (Adolfo Perez Esquivel)

I conclude with a sincere salute to the wonderful readers who indulge my rambling diversions with what I hope, are delicious stories of their own. Let your experiences chronicle your goals, your disappointments, and your victories.

No narrative is simple. No story is without consequence. As summer moves to a climax on the calendar and the scene changes once again, continue your legacy. Reflect on the carnival of grace that is life. Tend the garden. Plant your stories. ​

Seasons change. The cycle of transformation affects the spirit. Recognize the present moment. Read the invitation. Summer gardens are hosting a party. The sunset lingers. How will you celebrate?
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By late spring the strawberries ripen, and the pollen begins to settle. Students of all ages wait restlessly in warm classrooms. Weekends host parades of prom dresses. Summer stands impatiently before us. The season sings of energy, family vacations, sunshine, homemade ice cream, and graduation memories. Time moves us forward into the July heat and the anticipated changes of the season.

Now it’s July. A new batch of fireflies sprinkle the evening air, and bullfrogs blast their low hums against the concert of crickets. The ice melts in my sweet tea. Turtles sunbathe in the pond. Time drifts in busy waves. Minutes scatter like dandelion fluff. Perspiration seems to increase with the passing of each hour. It’s a bit too early for the first day of autumn, but not too soon to enjoy a summer daze. 

The calendar is briefly open. Weddings, summer travels, soccer, birthdays, and picnics are ready to be crammed into the margins of July like complex road maps. Crowds are beginning to gather near the neighborhood pools. Sunscreen is at a premium. Baseball fields overflow with several generations of Little League fans. The yellow-green tint of June has changed to deep emerald. Fishermen, joggers, and school children celebrate the changing season and the lingering of each sunset.

Moments rush past the consciousness and crowd the hours. The hasty buzz of increased activity blurs the focus. “We’re so busy watching out for what’s just ahead of us that we don’t take time to enjoy where we are.” (Calvin & Hobbes quote). Perhaps, it is time to pause. Bury the errands. Stare at the miracles. Refuel. Renew. Let’s put some fresh cookies in the cookie jar and taste the sweetness of the season.

Lawn mowers growl at the green earth to tame its wild frenzy. The scent of July is in the bleeding grass and the sudden afternoon storm. The heat dances above the surface of the driveway in a humid haze. Birds dash between the random raindrops, still singing. In the first moments of July, the celebration of Independence Day scatters pieces of light among the evening landscape of sky. 

Once again, it is July, and as we take pause in the present, let us wait for the surprises of our future. Summer is not the time to entertain fear or engage despair. Wait in hope. Live with joy. Never lose your wonder. For wonder is cheaper than therapy and a calming antidote to cynicism. Remain dazzled by the glory of every new season.

As the calendar gives pause to summer, let us consider the summary of British author Henry James, “Summer afternoon - Summer afternoon … the two most beautiful words in the English language.”

When one story ends another begins. Today I’m digging deep into my cookie jar to discover the sweet notion of better angels. This quest requires that I listen, question, encounter, and encourage.
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The term “better angels” refers to the empathetic, higher moral, and rational qualities within human nature.It is the spirit that promotes kindness, unity, and cooperation, especially during times of conflict. It is our better angel that calls us to awareness and agency when we recognize escalating rhetoric and deepening division. It is both easy and dangerous to choose comfort over engagement, especially when trusting that someone more experienced or powerful will intervene.

Incorporated into President Abraham Lincoln’s 1861 inaugural address and the pending of the Civil War, the reference to “better angels” calls upon people to rise above division. This term is often used to describe the “better” side of a person’s character, or the capacity to act with calm compassion and reasonable judgment. It suggests choosing understanding and grace over hate and hostility. When America stood at the brink of a divided union, Abraham Lincoln alerted her citizens with these words:

“We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.”

A “better angel” refers to the positive, altruistic aspects of human nature - such as empathy, reason, compassion, constructive dialogue, and cooperation - that triumph over selfish or violent impulses. History reveals it’s not always easy to find our “better angels.” Our own civil war is testimony to this.

In a more recent reality, author Steven Pinker wrote “The Better Angels of Our Nature.” Here he speaks of the decline of violence and provides more current examples of better angels:

Conflict Resolution & Empathy
A Vietnam veteran finding peace, or individuals listening to political opponents without trying to change them.

Acts of Kindness
A teenager honoring a deceased parent by volunteering to build homes, or a struggling family sharing their limited resources with neighbors.

Constructive Dialogue
Using techniques like “active listening” and paraphrasing to understand opposing viewpoints, rather than simply reacting to them.

Altruism
Choosing to help rather than harm, even when angry or pressured by societal tensions.

Historical/Societal Trends
The reduction in violence, torture, and slavery over centuries.

Consider the significance of your better angel. That is to say, ask questions, take an interest. Make an effort to understand one another’s perspective and know others for who they are and where they are.
A lot can happen between now and not yet. Remain aware that progress is not just someone else’s responsibility. Democracy requires participation. Join in the search for calm in the chaos. Acknowledge the path that encourages peace and hope. Find your better angel.

Today carries memories. A decade later, the lesson remains. Grandma kept the written confession here in an undated note, a shared apology by a humble and wise teacher. Let me tell you a story of a memo received, a step forward, and a lesson learned.

He is 10 years old and cautiously maneuvers the fourth grade hallway like a clever mouse secretly avoiding traps. His smile hints at popularity; his quick wit hides scars. This student is both wounded and wise. He lives, temporarily, with his grandmother.

On this particular day, his class is practicing fine motor skills using technology. What begins as a casual warm-up task evolves quickly into self-conscious failure. The boy’s effort to sketch a recognizable character on the iPad screen provokes laughter. The teacher’s impulsive snicker and reference to kindergarten level work ethic embarrasses the boy and he carries that frustrated fury home in his heart.

Anger slips quickly into the situation when this fourth grader’s intense emotions awkwardly erupt that evening in front of his grandma. Attempts at calm reassurances fail. A wound is opened. Grandma acknowledges the child’s feelings and tries to explain the concept of grace. Then she takes pen and paper and together they write a note to the young teacher expressing the child’s exasperation.

Twenty-four hours later, a written response addressed to that fourth-grader and his family arrives at grandma’s house. This is humility and compassion at its finest.

An elementary school is always a busy place; typically overflowing with facts, fiction, energetic students, good intentions, occasional chaos, talent, and devoted teachers. Achievement is a noble goal even if perfection isn’t always the outcome. Sincerity is salve for our injuries. Honest reflection offers insight. While wisdom is rarely measured accurately by test scores, learning can happen at any age.
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In this story notes are written, messages exchanged, lessons learned. This unnamed teacher will forever be the best representative of what it means to be an educator. Some trophies rest, not on the shelf, but rather in one’s heart. A lasting education will forever involve a lesson, a learner, and love.

There are mindful moments when I find myself pondering both the desire to know and the danger to remember. In a life of compelling routine and amazing surprise, I wonder how and I contemplate when. I long to set aside my prejudices in the name of understanding. I pause to wonder if there’s anything new under the sun.
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Yesterday, when driving to my destination, I appeared to make a wrong turn. The app in my car directed me to turn around, but my brain knew another way, so I continued on. As I entered the adjoining parking lot of my intended location, I saw the flashing lights that signaled a crash at the main entrance. As an outcome of my slip-up with directions, I made it to my appointment earlier instead of later. In the course of my perceived error, there was an accidental purpose that resulted in success.

What I do, as well as what I don’t do, can have a powerful impact. The role of good intentions may be worthy, but not always obvious. Plans change, mistakes happen, and inadvertent consequences may bring surprise. In a more stunning example, the significance of missing that flight might be not dying in the plane crash. Impulsively adding some extra cash to my bank account means I will avoid an overdraft for that check I failed to record. Turning right instead of left, or even a simple pause, may alter the outcome all together.

Many of society’s most well-known inventions were simply mistakes made by scientists on alternative quests. Silly putty, potato chips, post-it notes, corn flakes, laser printers, pacemakers, and even the microwave oven began as unintended consequences that evolved from accidental outcomes. In one such example, Sir Alexander Fleming was searching for a “wonder drug” that could cure diseases. However, it was only when Fleming threw away his experiments that he found what he was looking for. He noticed that a contaminated Petri dish he had discarded contained a mold that was dissolving all the bacteria around it. When he grew the mold by itself, he learned that it contained a powerful antibiotic, penicillin.

Unintended choices can have purpose. The seemingly incidental events may be more than we can know. Making more of less comes with appreciation and faith. In Ecclesiastes 3, I read that God “has planted eternity in the human heart.” In my naïve, unguarded state, I just want to know why? I want to rest until I can rise with intention and hope. Occasionally, I want to change how the story ends.

Curiosity may come with a cost, and human wisdom will have limits. Still, I value the pause. I acknowledge the power of faith. There is a sense of worship when what I see is so much more than I can understand. I marvel how the sky gargles its thunder when the storm comes. I stare in awe at the colorful sunset. Perhaps interest attracts meaning. The notion of surprise may merely be some accidental purpose demanding attention.

Today, I will commit to the prospect of eternity and the notion that life often overflows with fortuitous intention. My job is to share. Let us all faithfully pay attention to the possibilities. ​

At the moment the sky is gargling thunder. I am here waiting, holding these blank pages with a pause of gratitude and a slight grin. Today I have learned something new. The topic for this essay has just landed in my lap. Slowly read that title again.

I now know that RUD is an acronym for Rapid Unscheduled Disassembly. These three letters may also be an appropriate synonym for a crash, a terminal explosion, a new beginning, a disaster, or a teachable moment. I will confess, the first time I heard this expression resulted in an eye roll a smirk. I have recorded the term in my journal for future research and reflection. I will consider it useful terminology when filing an insurance claim. If my car hits a tree or a tornado rips the roof off my house, there will certainly be a rapid unscheduled disassembly to document.

 A bit of research suggests the term RUD may have first originated on forums discussing the online game Kerbal Space Program, a complex and difficult simulation that tasks players with building spaceships and maneuvering them in orbit. Apparently, the fanbase has been inspired to develop a few extra euphemisms for “my rocket blew up.”

 There’s a bit more backstory for context. Space X is a private spaceflight company associated with a man named Elon Musk. As recently as April 2023, Space X launched Starship, the tallest and most powerful rocket ever built. The flight ended at the four-minute mark with a “rapid unscheduled disassembly.” In other words, it blew up. Ideally, rockets aren’t supposed to explode.

Even with a RUD, the ambitious goal of gathering enough speed to clear the launch pad is being acknowledged as successful. Elon Musk and his employees support the notion that we can discover something from this explode-as-you-learn event. Perhaps, there is some truth to the concept of learning from our mistakes. Knowing what not to do can be helpful when learning the specifics of what to do.

Reflect with me on this notion of RUD. Has a rapid unscheduled disassembly of anything ever impacted you personally? When you were a toddler did you panic when your block tower collapsed? Did it require a fresh start? Can mistakes actually inspire perseverance? How memorable is any unscheduled disassembly? Let’s consider what happens when negative events become a catalyst for good. 

 Suppose a flat tire forces your vehicle into the ditch and during routine repairs you discover pre-existing damage to the axle? Would a RUD be something you were able to learn from? Perchance, in spite of the expense, the event made it possible to avoid an even greater disaster in the future. Investigating the details of a rapid unscheduled disassembly may actually improve future safety features. How many car crashes did it take to inspire seat belts becoming law? Can technology improve as a result of undesirable intentions? 

I’m encouraging some fresh perspective. Determination, wisdom, and perception are excellent motivators in the event of a RUD. A sinking ship may teach us a great deal about how to keep a ship afloat. Unintended consequences are not totally negative.
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What crisis in your life might add caution to your perspective? Is there a RUD in your future? The results could be useful. Failure may precede success. Consider the opportunities.

Today I am cleaning out some old files and rediscovering a few memories from the past. As I sit down to write a new essay, this story keeps floating to the surface. It’s true. It’s funny. And even though my oldest granddaughter just turned 21 this year, her choices continue to offer insight. So, grab your favorite beverage and join me in a smile.

The year is 2006. Lucy is four years old. Her soft blond hair is curly and her laugh is contagious. She absolutely LOVES animals! She seems motivated by curiosity and concern as she conveys generous affection to all creatures she encounters. While experience teaches a certain respect for danger, this budding zoologist is fearless. No cat, dog, slug, frog, fish, turtle, lizard, firefly, or earthworm escapes her caress. Lucy explores all living creatures equally, without preference or prejudice.

One day I drop by for a visit. I am immediately confused when Lucy announces, “This is a bad day. I’m grounded from holding animals!” At first, I imagine some innocent slug may have evolved into an experiment with the chemical reactions of salt. This is not the case.

As I survey the surroundings, I see Hector, the three-legged rescue dog, managing to race across the yard. I question Lucy about the brown ferret she frequently attempts to balance on her head. Then my eyes dart to the aquarium where I absent-mindedly count the fish. A praying mantis is moving around in a glass jar. Two small hermit crabs are resting in their shells. I observe no evidence of torture in the backyard of Lucy’s impromptu nature preserve.

Finally, I asked, “Why are you grounded from holding animals?”

Lucy shyly points to “Monster.” This cat’s ebony ears tremble like velvet leaves as he cautiously peeks out from underneath the car. She calls him Monster only because he is growing so fast. In reality, the gentle black and white kitten is less than a year old. Salvaged from a parking lot, this grateful cat is often the very willing target of cuddles and hugs. His white whiskers twitch excitedly when he’s allowed the privilege of napping on Lucy’s bed.

After focusing for several minutes, I notice Monster’s long white whiskers are missing. The remaining stubble of hair resembles stoic bristles of a tiny hairbrush. The cat makes no attempt to exit the relative safety of the car bumper. Lucy shrugs. “They tickled me too much,” she announces, “so that’s why I cut ’em.” I assume this to be an honest explanation from a precocious four-year-old. The rational solution for a minor irritation is to remove it. So, Lucy is grounded from cuddling animals today.

The animals are resting. And I am laughing, sympathetically.

The logic of Lucy’s behavior is also my logic. How often have I reacted hastily to the stimulus of temporary irritation? My voice and behaviors can sever parts of those I love as surly as Lucy’s scissors. I impulsively insist on removing whatever bothers me without analyzing the overall effect. Metaphorically, I cut the whiskers of those I love and fail to consider the long-term results. Monster’s missing whiskers will impact the cat’s ability to do what cats do. The absence of those whiskers may be painful and even limit the cat’s interpretation of his surroundings. There is always a consequence to any choice.

Perspective matters. Lucy’s story is a lesson. When you’re 4, you don’t have all the facts and your impulsive solutions may be amusing. By the time you are 40, the facts should be a prerequisite to action. Age and experience make me accountable. First, do no harm.
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Finally, consider this advice from Lucy. “Before you use scissors to cut anything, you need first to ask your mommy.” This certainly includes the cat’s whiskers!