Author: Denis Wilhelm

Brotherly Love

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

This past weekend my nephew Dave married his love Laura.  It was a beautiful wedding and a fabulous family celebration!  Relatives I hadn’t seen in a while were in attendance and new friendships were formed with Laura’s family.  Phenomenal weather, beautiful ceremony, fun reception – all around great day!  Our granddaughter Charlise was the Flower Girl.  Of course Deb and I were proud and pleased to see her be part of the wedding ceremony.  And while my heart was over-flowing with emotions – my nephew getting married; my beautiful granddaughter; recollections of my own wedding (centuries ago) – I couldn’t help but feel a little sadness, too.  You see our son Tyson, Charlise’s father, wasn’t able to be with us on Saturday.  Tyson is in the Air Force and is currently stationed in Germany awaiting orders for Korea.  He’ll be home on leave in November but needless to say, he couldn’t be with us at Dave and Laura’s wedding.  So it was bittersweet watching his little girl walking down the aisle knowing that her Daddy was in Germany alone.  Such is the life of a military man – sacrifice.

Fortunately our daughter Bess, our son-in-law Travis, our son Blake and his girlfriend Julia were with us.  And each of them seemed to step in for Tyson when the need arose.  Before the wedding when Charlise was getting a little ‘antsy’ her Uncle Blake amused her and kept her ever-joyful.  Her Aunt Bess helped her with last minute adjustments to her dress/hair/flowers.  All of them doted on her and made her feel like the center of attention (and at times she seemed to be).  Between the wedding and reception our family along with my niece and her fiancé went to a local restaurant where Charlise was treated as a princess by all – even the wait staff.  She was beaming! 

Later while I was dancing with Charlise at the reception I noticed Bess and Travis and Blake and Julia all eagerly awaiting their turn to dance with her.  Her Aunt and Uncles were proxy Daddies on Saturday and Charlise never lacked for attention or love the entire day.  Did they do this for Charlise or Ty?  I’m sure that they didn’t give it that much thought.  It’s just what they do. Our kids (and the ones they love) have an extraordinary capacity for caring.  Debbie and I have made lots of mistakes (well mostly me) but one thing I am sure that we did right along the way was to teach our children how to love.  How to give.  How to care.  And on Saturday my heart nearly burst with pride for the way they ‘loved’, ‘cared for’ and ‘gave to’ Tyson in loving, caring and giving to his daughter.  He may not have been there to share in the joy of the day but he can rest assured that his siblings were there for him.  It’s just the way they’re made – from love.

Peace,

Denis

Self-inflicted Pain

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Last year I decided to “get in shape”. Now for the record I wasn’t actually out of shape because technically I had never been in shape. I liked being kind of soft and mushy and my solution to my ever-expanding waistline was brilliant: buy new clothes. But after a high blood pressure reading, some aches and pains and a general feeling of fatigue; I decided that I didn’t want to be fat, frumpy and fiftyish anymore.

So I embarked on my odyssey of self-improvement or as I prefer to call it – self-inflicted pain. I know that diet and exercise is more appealing when we refer to it as “a lifestyle change” but let’s not kid ourselves – it’s still DIET and EXERCISE. What’s particularly frustrating (to me anyway) is that it works. I wanted to take a magic pill or buy some fancy machine that would transform me into my vision of health and fitness. The infomercials on T.V. make it look so easy – hmmm, could it be that those ads are deceptive? What really helped me get kick-started was a “Biggest Loser” competition we had at work – I love to win stuff! So I started counting calories, making healthier food choices and began the dreaded exercise regime.

Turns out exercise isn’t that much fun. But I’ve learned to adjust my way of thinking and I usually start my day out on the treadmill. I have an hour of quiet time – sometimes I pray; often I listen to music via my iPod; and sometimes I just enjoy the peaceful silence (although my panting and gasping initially was a distraction). I give myself the morning for me – the fact that I’m walking has become incidental – I have reserved that time just for me. And that’s the beauty – it feels a little selfish and indulgent – and I like that!

BEFORE

As far as the DIET, I have just increased the good stuff and decreased the bad stuff. Again, pretty simple concept. I was fortunate enough to meet with a dietician and get some sound advice: DON’T DRINK YOUR CALORIES – FIBER IS YOUR FRIEND – EAT SMALLER PORTIONS – BLAH, BLAH, BLAH. And I love my new foods and I’ve learned that water really is God’s perfect beverage. So I guess it is “a life-style change” and it works. But I hate to admit that sometimes I have ‘doughnut dreams’.

I also joined a gym and I had a few sessions with a trainer named Jake (but after the first session I had another name for that little sadist). We worked on ‘my core’. Which was startling to me because I didn’t know that I possessed a core and I didn’t’ realize that ‘working’ on it would make me want to cry like a little girl and then throw up. Did I mention that I HATE Jake? Now I go to the gym a few days each week and I continue to work on my core and well as cardio and other stuff. I still give Jake the ‘stink-eye’ whenever I see him – that little jerk! But each day at the gym is a day that I’m not sitting on my bottom. So I guess it’s true – that you can either use it or lose it. I’m not power lifting or anything like that; I’m just hoping to hang on to what I’ve got – it seems that after 50 what doesn’t fall off – falls apart. I’m just trying to slow that natural progression.

AFTER

The good news: Diet and exercise works! I’ve lost 50 pounds. My blood pressure is great. My cholesterol is low. And I feel better than I have in years. So it seems that my self-inflicted pain has paid off. And my reward is that I can (maybe) look forward to a longer life.

Now I had better start thinking about making some changes on the inside – that’s where the real work is needed. More acceptance – less judgment. More tolerance – less prejudice. More joy – less regret. More love – less hate. This change won’t require self-inflicted pain. It should be the opposite. Surrendering to God’s love won’t be easy (for me) but the only painful part will be letting go of my need to be in control. This past year I transformed my body; it might take a little while longer to transform my soul but I’ve got an excellent trainer in Jesus…

My soul, be at rest in God alone, from whom comes my hope. Psalms 62:6

Peace,

Denis

Put Your Play Clothes On!

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Last week my two year old granddaughter Anna met me at the back door.  It had been a long and stressful day –unreasonable customers; blundering suppliers; disgruntled employees; disappointing profit margins; idiot commuters; and me!  Me: all serious and angry and full of spite.  And Anna: all smiles and giggles and full of joy.  I hadn’t even entered the house and she was there jumping up and down; excited and happy to see me.  What had I done to deserve such a welcome?  It didn’t matter.  Before I could scoop her up in my arms she asked me, “Pawpaw, you wanna put your play clothes on?”  Those words were music to my ears!

Who wouldn’t want to drop EVERYTHING (bad mood, shitty day, lousy traffic) and put their play clothes on?  Anna and I then ran to my room and while I changed my clothes something magical happened – I changed; I really changed.  I felt better instantly!  Anna didn’t care about profits or schedules or developmental deals.  She just wanted to play with her Pawpaw.  And so we did! 

I shed more than my business attire when I put on my play clothes.  I let go of my day.  And I was able to focus on what was really important – my loved ones.  I listened (really listened) to Anna.  She had so much to tell me about what she and her Nana had done that day.  And her happiness was contagious.  Soon I was happy, too.  I guess it took putting on my play clothes to see through the eyes of a two year old.  I thanked God right then and there for sending this little angel into my life.  Maybe she knew what I needed – when I couldn’t see it myself.

We went outside and watered flowers and she drank from the garden hose – which is very exotic when you’re a two year old.  We played with the dogs.  We laughed.  We ran around the backyard.  I got lots of kisses and hugs (and returned the favor, too).  And she told me that she loved me for no apparent reason. What a difference a change of clothes makes! It was really nothing remarkable, just simple fun with my granddaughter – which is what made it so special. 

So the next time you’re having a lousy day and your world is a little more than you can handle, I recommend that you “put your play clothes on”.  I’m willing to bet that you will change more than your clothes.

Peace,

Denis

The First Day

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

On August 31, 2010 our granddaughter Charlise starts kindergarten.  She’s our first granddaughter, so she gets to do all the ‘firsts’.  Tomorrow is a big day for her and for us, too.  It seems like just yesterday that she was born.  Now she starts kindergarten.  She’s ready; we’re not.  She’s still our baby girl (and always will be).

But I’ve been thinking about ‘first days’ a lot lately: 

Charlise starts her first day of school at Central Elementary – it sounds so official.  Do I need to go there and make sure that the teachers and principal know how special she is?  I know that they will teach her.  But will they protect her?  Love her?  Care for her?  Will they know that she’s too precious to be considered “just another kindergartener”? 

My nephew David is getting married this weekend and he and Laura will soon have their ‘first day’ as husband and wife.  Do they understand what this all means (does anyone)?  Are they really prepared to love, honor and (I don’t know – do we still say “obey”)?   Will their ‘honeymoon’ last forever?  Is their life together going to be ‘The Excellent Adventure’ that marriage is meant to be?

My daughter and son-in-law are about to welcome a new baby into their home.  And his or her ‘first day’ will change EVERYTHING.  Bess is due in just a couple of weeks and right now the anticipation of a new baby is a little nerve-racking but the miracle of another new life makes it all worthwhile.  This baby’s ‘first day’ will be a cause for joy and celebration and will become this special little someone’s ‘birthday’ to be celebrated each year! 

All ready for her first day!

These ‘first days’ are only important because they mark the start of something bigger:  a new academic beginning; a new marriage; a new life.  ‘First days’ are full of emotion and joy and apprehension and unknown.  Imagine if each day was treated like a ‘first day’.  Think about how exciting your job would be if you looked at each day as a ‘first day’ – dressing up and having your picture taken before you ventured out.  Wonder, if you will, about how much better your marriage could be if you were as excited about rolling over in bed to kiss goodnight as you were on your wedding day.  What if you could get ‘butterflies in your stomach’ just thinking about sharing breakfast together?  And what if each day was celebrated as a ‘birthday’?  What kind of change in attitude might we experience if we thanked God each day for our life and the lives of those we love?  How different would we feel if we celebrated the miracle of life constantly – even the cranky middle-aged lives like mine?

Tomorrow will be Charlise’s ‘first day’ and I will be proud and happy for her and a little emotional.  There will probably be a special ‘first day’ breakfast before she leaves the house.  There will be excitment all day and lots to talk about when she gets home.  What fun!

I’m praying that I can be just as excited about coming to work tomorrow.  Maybe I’ll dress up and have Deb take my picture before I leave the house.  Who knows it could the ‘first day’ of my new attitude!

Peace,

Denis

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QWfZ5SZZ4xE&feature=fvw

“The Customer’s Always Right” – right?

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

There’s an old adage that says, “The Customer’s Always Right”.  I grew up believing that.  And in retail stores, as in most businesses, customers ultimately pay the employees salaries. Without customers, there is no business!

Working from that premise I decided to take my complaint to The Store Manager.  The Store Manager is one of those lofty individuals that can say YES after other store employees, that have been programmed to do so, say NO.  So when I ask to “speak to the Store Manager” I’ve come to expect that my concern/complaint/issue will be given the proper solemn important attention that it deserves.  After all, MY PROBLEM is of the utmost significance to me, and therefore should be to The Store Manager as well.

Well that’s where I was wrong!  Let me give you a little background:  At issue is the fact that while still under warranty our television lost video and audio reception.  It was wrongly diagnosed twice by The BIG BOX STORE’s repair dude and the manufacturer’s Support Team and finally after more than 6 months of on-again off-again T.V. it was determined that the panel is bad (whatever that means?).  Of course now our television is no longer under warranty.  Had the correct problem been identified back in February, parts and repairs would have been covered.  Now we are looking at a $1,280.00 part plus labor costs of several hundred dollars!   

So I went to speak to The Store Manager to see what she could do to help me.  After waiting the better part of an hour (several other assistant managers and such tried to intercede on her behalf but I knew that my problem was likely out of their authority to resolve – so I waited) the Store Manager finally arrived clearly annoyed that I had insisted on speaking with only her.  Immediately her demeanor was combative and extremely rude.  When I asked her why she had kept me waiting so long, her response was, “You are not my boss and I don’t have to explain myself to you!” 

Wow!  I worked in retail years ago and that would have been cause for immediate termination ‘back in the day’ but this was THE STORE MANAGER – I guess things have changed.  Wowzer!  Needless to say, she did not appreciate my “rightness” and I am now dealing with her supervisor, and The Better Business Bureau, and The CEO of BIG BOX STORE and God only knows who else.

I’ve been assured, by a VP of BIG BOX Something or other, that EVERYTHING will be repaired at no cost to us, but I’m still waiting.  And I’m still waiting for my letter of apology from The Store Manager.  Hope hell doesn’t freeze over the day that arrives!

Is it so wrong to be right?

Peace,

Denis

Please Hold Your Applause

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

All three of our children graduated from Homestead High School in Mequon, Wisconsin. Homestead was consistently ranked near the top of all high schools in Wisconsin for academic excellence. We were blessed to live in a community with such a great public high school. Homestead rivaled most private high schools in our area.

During the years our kids went to Homestead there were roughly 1,300 students; so graduating classes were typically about 300-350 kids. Because of the large number of graduates, each year at the graduation ceremonies they would ask all those in attendance to hold their applause until ALL students received their diplomas.

This worked. People complied. Except for the families of black students. Homestead had a minority student population of about 10% – most of those kids were black. There were Hispanic and Asian kids but they probably made up less than 2% of the total student body. So while most of the graduating class’s families sat politely quiet about 8% of those in attendance would cheer loudly for their graduates. I never found this particularly disturbing but it was always interesting to me – there’s probably a sociological study in there somewhere. The clapping and cheering likely only added an additional 20 – 30 minutes to the graduation ceremonies. So no big deal (or so I thought).

Our youngest child Blake was (and still is) an enigma! He was a National Merit Semifinalist. He was offered a full-ride scholarship to Ball State University in Indiana. He had been accepted (and enrolled) into the University of Wisconsin. And yet, we didn’t know until the day of his graduation whether or not he would actully graduate! It seems that he had not done most of his homework or term papers for the last quarter of his senior year. Furthermore not until we received his progress reports (lack of progress is more like it) did we even know that there was a problem.

Needless to say, graduation day for Blake had us on ‘pins and needles’. What would we tell grandparents that had made the trip from Missouri? What would it mean if he didn’t graduate? Would Wisconsin withdraw their acceptance? Would he have to stay home another year? God help us all!

But Blake turned in all his missing assignments; took make-up tests, finished term papers. And we waited. Because grading wasn’t complete until the Friday before Sunday’s graduation, we wouldn’t know whether his “make-up work” would work.

So on Sunday we sat in the Field House listening as names were announced (and I was silently cursing the fact that our last name begins with a “W” because we had to wait through nearly the entire alphabet). We sat for what seemed like days – and then a miracle: “BLAKE WILHELM”! And then the cheers! Why were people cheering for Blake? And why was it all the black families? And with that, I witnessed another miracle, Blake parading in with Honor Cords; not only had he graduated but he apparently managed to do work good enough to make the honor roll. I was torn between being relieved, proud and wanting to strangle him with those gold cords!

And why were the black families cheering for him anyway? Did they know what he had managed to pull off? Did they admire his ability to overcome his obstacles? Or did they just love Blake because he’s such a great kid? NO – none of the above. Turns out that Blake had gone to every black kid in his graduating class and asked them to ask their families to cheer when (if) his name was announced.

Life with Blake has always been like a roller-coaster – lots of ups and downs. But the ride is a hell of a lot of fun! Thanks for the ride Blake – I love you (and I’m still cheering, too).

Peace,

Dad

The Wads

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

Our daughter Bess’ first college roommate was a one of her best friends from Homestead High School.  Down the hall from her dorm room was one of her other best friends from grade school and high school.  So leaving her at the University of Wisconsin that freshman year didn’t seem quite so daunting because she had good friends nearby.  That year she would meet two other girls – one from Cedarburg High School just north of where we lived, and another from Minnesota.  Even though Bess and Laurie had been friends the longest (since 6th grade) and she had known Kristy since freshman basketball in high school, all five girls bonded pretty quickly.  They became a pack and carried (or were carried) by one another for the next four years.  Their friendship continues to this day and I suspect it will last their lifetimes.

Their junior year at Wisconsin it was decided that they would leave the dorms and move into a townhouse apartment – the five plus one more.  Six girls in a townhouse with 2 bathrooms – that’s three girls per bathroom – you can do the math yourself.  College-age girls share EVERYTHING.  They shared one another’s clothes; they shared each others cosmetics; they drank and ate after one another (I found this particularly disgusting); they even shared one another’s beds – perhaps if it was a stormy night or if they had nightmares (and probably when a roommate had a boy spend the night – I’m just sayin’…).  It was this habit of being so TOGETHER (literally and figuratively) that garnered them the nickname ‘The Gay-wads’.  Now for the record that nickname came from one of the other dads – not yours truly!  I’m not certain what he meant exactly (probably just that they were too close and that outsiders might think they were gay, I suppose) but the girls thought it was hysterical and after that they referred to themselves as the ‘The Gay-wads’; later shortened to ‘The Wads’. 

The following year the ‘plus one’ moved on and ‘The Wads’ moved to yet another place (sans Laurie who was studying abroad in Spain).  This time they lived in a converted bungalow with an additional couple of new girls.  But ‘The Wads’ remained solid.  I’ve only been allowed a glimpse or two into their world – the shared stories have been altered (and sanitized).  There’s a reason that the University of Wisconsin was voted the #1 party school.  I’m sure ‘The Wads’ helped maintain that reputation.  In spite of all the partying, I know that these girls were there for one another time and time again.  I’m certain that some actual studying took place, too.  After all, they did all five graduate!

Graduation from Wisconsin was bittersweet – they would all be moving on.  Some of them would work after graduation; some would continue on to graduate school.  But one thing was certain:  LIFE WAS CHANGING. 

Our daughter graduated with a double major in Political Science and Spanish and went to work in Human Resources at a large hospital in Milwaukee.  Kristy went on to a doctoral program in Boston via Purdue and Austin.  Laurie went to law school at Marquette in Milwaukee.  Katie went to work as a nurse in a hospital in Boston.  And Amanda joined the Peace Corp, eventually ending up in grad school in Michigan.  The ‘Wads’ were officially grown-ups (sort of).

Today all five are married (to people that I approve of – as if that matters).  Our daughter, Bess was the first to marry – seven years ago.  Katie was the last – two weeks ago.  Their lives have taken each of them in different directions and they all have a world of opportunities and experiences still awaiting them.  But when they get together once or twice a year they are still the ‘Wads’.  They laugh at the same silly jokes and reminisce about the same crazy adventures (or misadventures) that they shared.  The spouses have been allowed to come along on this journey and it’s a testament to their love that each husband or wife seems to enjoy/tolerate ‘Wad Weekend’.  I believe the spouses may have formed a support group of their own.

Sometimes I miss those girls that were – before jobs and spouses and children.  There was once an innocence about them and it seemed like collectively they would one day rock our world!  But you know, the reality is they are rocking our world.  They are all contributing members of our society.  They think before they act.  They work for positive change. They care for those in need. They are stewards of our planet.  They are the teachers, nurturers, builders of a future that embraces diversity and opportunity of all.  They are the best our world has to offer. 

When they get together they might still be “Gay-wads”.  They might giggle and act like 18 year-olds again but something happens when they go home.  They become the women of integrity and substance and beauty that they were meant to be.  And I am honored to know them. 

Our daughter Bess is raising her own beautiful daughter now and will give birth to baby #2 in just a few weeks.  My prayer is that someday my grandchildren have their own group of ‘Wads’ and that they will know that kind of true and lasting friendship.

Peace,

Denis

Momma’s Boy

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

My son Tyson is a ‘Momma’s Boy’.  I don’t say that with any disrespect or condescension.  I just mean he is unabashedly a man who loves his mother.  And he ALWAYS has.  He has never been afraid to openly show affection toward her.  His concern and love is at once both honorable and heartbreakingly beautiful.  I’ve heard it said that “the greatest gift a father can give his children – is to love their mother”.  I wonder if anyone has ever considered that “the greatest gift a son can give his father – is to love his wife”?  Ty loves his Mom and of course she loves him, too.  But I get to live with the comfort of knowing that should anything ever happen to me – Tyson would be there for Deb.  That’s what a ‘Momma’s Boy’ does: he loves his Momma!

When Ty was a little guy he needed his Mom like all little boys do:  He needed to be nursed; he needed dry diapers; he needed to be comforted in times of sickness.  As he grew older his needs changed but they still involved Mom: help with homework, lunch for school, clean uniforms, car-pooling to and from sports, scouts, etc.  And as he got even older:  wise counsel, a shoulder to lean on, endless moral support, and undying love.  All provided by good ol’ Mom. 

Once when Tyson was in grade school he came to me to upset because he cried too easily.  He always seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve.  Of course this made him a target for other kids at school.  I explained to him that he was like Mom – people that have really big hearts will get them bruised more easily.  I told him it’s the price that you pay for being tender-hearted; that when you have a greater capacity to love, you also have a greater chance of being hurt.  At the young age of 7 or 8, he seemed to understand this.  He decided then that his ability to “love like Mom” was worth the risk of an occasional broken heart. 

Tyson never shied away from hugging or kissing his Mom is public.  I still remember ‘Parents’ Night’ each year for the wrestling squad at Homestead High School.  The team would be presented and then the parents would be called forward.  Each wrestler had a bouquet of flowers for their mom.  Tyson always hugged and kissed Deb while presenting her bouquet – most of his teammates sort of sheepishly handed the flowers to their mothers.  I still feel tremendous pride for those evenings.  What a beautiful way to honor his mother.  And he didn’t flinch when ‘the guys’ would snicker or smirk – he was too proud of her to allow their immaturity to ruin his moment.

Momma and her boy

Tyson is a smart guy – smart enough to know that Mom is the rock of our family.  She’s the one that will sit up all night to listen to your heartache.  She’s the one that can provide emergency medical care in a pinch.  She’s the one that will put on a meal, make up a bed, throw out the welcome mat or get on a plane if you NEED her.  And it’s not always necessary to ask – Mom knows!  She’s got that ability (call it woman’s intuition or something supernatural) that makes her able to sense stuff that mere mortals can’t see or hear.  She’s like an oracle.  I swear she anticipates calls for help from her children and she’s always ready to spring into action.

When I say Ty is a ‘Momma’s Boy’ I don’t mean he’s a wuss or a cry-baby.  I mean that he’s a man who loves his mother.  I know that he understands what an amazing woman with which God has blessed him. And I know that he will be forever grateful for the man that she has helped him become.

Peace,

Denis

Petite Chérie

/ Denis Wilhelm / Leave a comment

My friend (and work associate) is having a baby!  Her baby is due in January – new year; new baby.  Sherry will make a wonderful mother and she’s been waiting a long time for this opportunity.  I won’t tell you her exact age; let’s just say she’s in her 40’s.  Many women would be apprehensive about starting motherhood after 40 but Sherry seems to be embracing it with all her heart and soul – mostly soul.  Her husband has four grown daughters but this is Sherry’s first child and it will be a girl, too.  She just had the ultrasound last week to confirm that she is indeed carrying ‘Petite Chérie’.  This is not going to actually be the baby’s name but it is the name that I’ve given her – Little Dear One.  What could be more fitting?  Sherry is LOVED by everyone in our office and it stands to reason that her baby girl will be loved by us all as well.  She will be our ‘Petite Chérie’. 

I love babies!  What a ingenious way for God to start people.  Yet proof again of God’s supreme plan for Creation.  If we were born as our adult selves no one be nearly as excited about it.  Congratulations – here’s your middle-aged, balding, more than-slightly overweight son.  Or here’s your pre-menopausal, daughter with ‘crows feet’ and a bad dye-job!  No thanks! 

But babies come to us pure and unspoiled.  They have ‘sweet baby smell’ and make gurgling sounds and they are completely helpless AND completely adorable.  I know why Sherry wants a baby – because babies are God’s reminder that the world deserves another chance.  ‘Petite Chérie’ will change our world (or at the very least, Sherry and Rodney’s) one heart at a time.  She will be loved and she will love and serve God and mankind.  She will be a joy to all around her because of the tremendous example she has in her parents. 

‘Petite Chérie’ means Little Dear One and that is what she will be!  I hope that I will get to see her grow up; but not too fast.  I want to relish her first steps and her first words even if it will be vicariously through Mama Sherry.  I pray that in the future she will know how much she was wanted and how patiently her mother waited for her.

I also pray that she has the same patience with her parents when someday she wants to hurry things along a bit too fast.  Be still Dear Little One your time is at hand!  You’ve been waited for so long; please let us “baby you” for awhile.

Peace,

Denis

God, Are You Out There?

/ Denis Wilhelm / 2 Comments

If you’re anything like me from time to time you probably find yourself asking, “God, are you out there?”  This morning is one of those mornings. I’m in a true-blue funk.  Work has been particularly stressful lately – extremely busy with a staff that has been stretched too thin (apparently this is a trend in businesses today – I’m sure some CEO is making even more money for that idea!); I have a friend that is dealing with a heartbreaking situation with her daughter; Debbie’s dealing with some health issues; and our son’s impending divorce and the consequences of what that will mean to our granddaughter has been keeping me awake nights.  

Not that there haven’t been joyful things happening but sometimes the bad stuff just outweighs the good stuff.  And I start asking, “God, are you out there?”  Of course in due time I realize (remember?) that God is not out there; God is in here.  In me.  And you.  I’ve come to believe that we must be Christ to one another – to share the Holy Spirit dwelling within us.  G0d’s not sitting out there on some mystical cloud looking down with a heavenly ‘remote control’ – “I think I’ll smite Wilhelm today – ha, ha, ha!”  God sent his Son to earth to redeem our sins and the Holy Spirit is with us always – especially when we don’t know it (or feel it).

I try (I really do) to be Christ to others – I mostly fail.  But I am blessed with others who are constantly being Christ to me.  And during these difficult times I will find comfort and solace being in their presence.  When I pray for God’s help, I am always rewarded by an intervention from one of his disciples – right here; right now!

My best friend’s wife, Ronica, is one of those disciples of Christ.  And I doubt that she realizes that she has ever brought Christ to me.  That’s how she is:  self-deprecating, unpretentious, and modest.  She doesn’t like attention (which I really don’t understand – it’s something I crave), she won’t take credit for most of the good that she has done, and she is really kind (especially to old people – which will come in handy for me someday).

Now it’s not that Ronica has had an easy life or has all the answers but she listens – really listens.  And she always puts aside her own heartaches to deal with yours.  I’ve seen her stop to help total strangers, when most of us would just walk on by.  She’s not doing it because she’s some kind of living saint – she just helps people.  And she befriends people that most of us would avoid (or run from!).  She has the uncanny ability to ask an amputee “how they lost it” without being offensive or intrusive.  I just marvel at her! 

What’s most amazing to me is that when you are in need, Ronica will bare her all to help you.  I mean that literally – If I fell down and Ronnie had to show her ass to a roomful of people to help me up off the floor, she would do it without a moment of hesitation.  She will put aside her own vanity or embarrassment to aid a friend (or stranger).  I’ve seen it happen many, many times and I’ve been the welcome recipient a time or two.

I’ve known Ronica for 35 years.  When we first met she was like a lamb; painfully shy and very quiet.  Now she is a like a lioness; brave, loyal and fiercely protective.  Deb and I love to be together will Alan and Ronica – we always share a good time and exercise our ‘laugh’ muscles.  But we’ve been together through some tough times, too.  That’s what friends are for.  And I know that I can always count on their friendship.

Saturday their younger son Dustin was married – what a great day!  During the recitation of the vows, his soon-to-be wife, Jessica was overcome by emotion.  She began to cry and Dustin stopped everything and just held her and allowed her to compose herself – he didn’t care that there was a congregation of people with their mouths gaping open wondering what might happen next.  He just held her in his arms and became Christ for her at that moment.  I couldn’t help but wonder if Ronica knew that she had modeled that behavior for him? 

I know now that when I cry, “God, are you out there?”  He is not.  God is in here.  In Ronica; in Dustin; and hopefully sometimes in me, too. 

Peace,

Denis