Chris Loehmer Kincaid's Blog, page 88

An Unexpected Gift

When I started the car after work just a month ago, this is what showed up.   Lights are on, lights are on bright. I don’t have my seat belt on. Yet. I have a low tire, or several. And the check engine light is on. Way too much color on the panel, eh?
The hubby checked the tires the next morning, and I naturally put my seatbelt on before I put the car in gear. That check engine light? It had been on for a while, and we had already taken the car to the garage to have it checked. You know mechanics. They said there was nothing wrong with the car and not to worry about that light. Which was okay, except what if something changed and suddenly there was something wrong with the engine. How would I know?
When I started the car yesterday morning – shazam - the check engine light was off. (No, I didn’t take a picture. Do you think I’m totally nuts?)

Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, the first day on the somber journey to Good Friday and the glory of Easter morning. On Sunday, I posted that I would find a gift in each day between now and then, and though I won’t tell you about each and every one of them, I’ll share a few. That check engine light going off? I know it is a very small thing, but it was still a gift to me. One less thing to worry about. And a reminder that with Jesus riding shotgun, we really don’t have to worry about anything. 

Gifts and Sacrifices

 “To love him [God] with all your heart, with all your understanding and with all your strength, and to love your neighbor as yourself is more important than all burnt offerings and sacrifices.” Mark 12:33 New International Version (NIV)
     This coming week we celebrate Ash Wednesday and the beginning of Lent. In past years, I’ve occasionally “given” up something for Lent, usually something inconsequential such as chocolate. Other times, I’ve attempted to spend the six weeks until Easter giving up Facebook or getting rid of the junk around my house or attempting the impossible-to-measure “being nicer to people”. And ask me how any of that went? You know it didn’t go well. Just like the rest of us, I am a first-rate sinner – weak in spirit and selfish in body. God has blessed me, however, with a moderate amount of creativity.
The first of the year, I chose the word “gift” as my word of the year. It makes sense then, that during this time of sacrifice, that I concentrate on that. What gifts have I received and what gifts have I given?
Hence, from now until Easter Sunday, I will try each day to offer a gift to someone else, whether a physical gift such as a book or a jacket or a cookie. Or it could be a gift of time or talent. Can I clear the snow off someone’s car after work or mail an inspirational note to someone having a difficult time? Whatever I do, I cannot mention here or anywhere else. There is a verse about that (Matthew 6:1)!
What I will mention here, however, is the gift which I find in each day. Whether it’s the sunshine melting our snow or a loaf of baked bread from a patient or my husband vacuuming the house for me (he did that yesterday! He is a gift to me each day).
And maybe, after these six weeks are up, after we have celebrated the resurrection of Jesus, after I realize there is nothing I can do which will ever pay back that kind of sacrifice, maybe – hopefully - I will continue to remember the gifts.
Thank You, Lord God, for every gift You give us. Help me to use these gifts to share You with others. Amen.      A lot of gifts can't be wrapped

Streets of Snow and Ice

 It has been a very long time since I posted about walking the streets of my town. From the weather to a bad foot to having no time, I have a myriad of reasons. Today, I thought it was time to at least take a drive around my little city of Tomahawk, Wisconsin to capture at least some of the impressive amounts of snow we’ve had so far this year.
No one knows where we can possibly put any more snow, yet here it is the first of March, the month during which we historically acquire the greatest snowfall. Will keep you posted. . . 
Memorial Park looking across the Wisconsin River  Looking south across the river towards Memorial Park  The Bridge Inn Hotel. Out of town snowmobilers might be spending the night there.   Home of the Kwahamots Water Ski Team. Probably not on the water today.  The reason why we don't bury people until spring around here.   Oh, my, just a little bit of ice on the door at Dollar General.  More ice on the eaves  Ice on a lot of eaves  At SARA Park recreation center too  The icicles form that way from the wind blowing at the building  Ice at the public library  Along with the snow and snowbanks which are everywhere in town
The old Hy-Rider building
 The old VFW hall in Jersey City. Been a while since I've been past it. I mostly was driving today, as what sidewalks are shoveled look like this, which makes me a little claustrophobic  I always wonder about the houses of the "snowbirds", who is watching their houses while they are south for the winter.   What if they come home from their warm winter to this? It looks like this may have collapsed a while ago, but is hard to tell. If anyone reading this knows whose house this is, maybe they should contact them. It's about a half mile east of the radio station on Mohawk Drive. 

And even if we don’t get any more snow, where is this going to go when it melts? 

Filling my Thoughts with This

As the snow continues to fall here in Wisconsin, I’m doing my best to just put my mind in a different place. I keep thinking I should be taking pictures around town because the snow piles are so ridiculously high. There is no place else to put anymore snow, yet, as already mentioned, it just continues to fall.
So instead I turn my attention to what has been out there before and what will come back again. 

Snow-mentia

She doesn’t worry about her family when it snows;    their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear. (Proverbs 31:21, The Message Bible)
Proverbs, chapter 31, verses 10 to 31, is called the hymn of the good wife or wife of noble character. The woman described in those verses is pretty amazing, someone I can only aspire to be, but fall quite short. For starters, whether my family is dressed for this winter weather we’ve been having, there is no amount of clothing that’s going to keep me from fretting a little about all the snow we’ve had.
Ok, I'm past the point of worrying. Instead, I think I’ve fallen into snow-mentia. As these pictures I took yesterday attest. Looks like I was frosting a cake instead of whittling away at the mountain of snow on the deck.   This snow looks like it is trying to escape from a jail cell.   Maybe strip mining? Or stairway to heaven?   But here's the good thing. The hubby can't get to his grill, but I set up another one.   And invited some friends.  Looks like they are going up the stairway to heaven.     Actually, I can't blame my dementia on the snow after all. Looks like I was this weird 38 years ago.  All I can add is a prayer of thanksgiving that God made me who I am. If you can’t have a sense of humor or just plain be strange sometimes, well, then I don’t know. Thank You, God, for making me who I am. 

Just a random barn? Hardly

I was sitting in the dentist’s chair Monday morning, enjoying the view out the window, that is of course, until the hygienist stuck her hands in my mouth. The view out the window is much nicer in the summer, when they have a water feature, with water tumbling over some rocks into a little pond. Birds twitter and squirrels frolic, and again, it would be quite relaxing if someone’s hand were not in my mouth.
I always wanted to sneak a picture in the summer, but never felt like I had the chance. Monday morning, however, when the hygienist stepped out to develop my bite-wings (yikes!), I couldn’t resist. I edged out of the chair, and with that paper napkin-thing chained around my neck, I snuck my camera from my purse and snapped a shot. I love that old barn.
When the hygienist got back, I mentioned how pretty that barn was. A little later, when I asked for a certain kind of toothbrush and I heard her footfalls go down and back up a set of stairs, I started thinking. First of all, I didn’t know there was a basement in my dentist’s office. I knew that a service station had once been on that property, which made me wonder if going into the basement was like going into the “pit”.
What I really remembered about that service station, though, was that when I was in middle school, it was only a ten-minute walk there. And even though we weren’t supposed to leave the school grounds during lunch, many a noon-time we would walk there to buy candy. Now, how ironic is that? Eating that sugary candy as a kid and now I’m back in the same location getting my teeth worked on.
I don’t remember who else ran that station, but I did find on the internet that it was Andy's Eastside Standard Station from 1970 to 1975. Which was about the right time frame. Anyone else who grew up in my hometown will know it.

Meet Stan, Vincent, Tyrone, and Pam

I’ve been going to post these pictures for a while but just haven’t gotten around to it. Had a few other ideas for blogging tonight, but this one seemed as good as any.
Let me introduce Stan, Vincent, Tyrone, and Pam. You figure out which name belongs to which one.
My son took these pictures on his trip to Africa -
 - waiting for his plane in Chicago   - on the plane  - during the long layover in Dubai  - at Hell's Gate  - at the crocodile park   - still at the crocodile park   - and still at the crocodile park   - at the baby elephant rescue center - on safari (there is an adult elephant in that brush)
I don’t have a clue where the boy gets this from . . . and now it just dawned on me that this blog is called "The Dino Chronicles!" Wow!

If you don't already know what we do in Africa, click on this link. Or like us on Facebook. 

Speechless

December 1971, our backyardI could call this post “Snowpocalypse” or “Wintermageddon”, but instead I will just remain speechless. I’ve lived through some abysmal winters here in northern Wisconsin. When I was a kid, it seemed like we got this much snow every year and most Januarys it hovered in the minus digits for at least a week or two at a time. Maybe we’ve all become whimps because of a long string of mild winters. Even last winter wasn’t that bad, except that it never, ever ended. I think we got two feet of snow in April.

The winter of 2018-2019 got off to a slow start. Not much happening in December or January. But the last few weeks? Don’t even ask. It leaves me speechless. But not without pictures.    For starters, above is our grill on the deck on January 4. Below is yesterday afternoon.

 Above was from Friday morning. Below yesterday afternoon. The snowbanks are rising.
And at 6:00 this morning as Hubby went out to deal with it. Again. 
 Above, the deck last Thursday afternoon. Below, yesterday afternoon.
And at 6:00 this morning. That path is all I have the strength to shovel. 
 And these poor babies.
Then, some artsy pictures.





 Last, the view out my office window.

The Gift of Love

If I had the gift of being able to speak in other languages without learning them and could speak in every language there is in all of heaven and earth, but didn’t love others, I would only be making noise. 2 If I had the gift of prophecy and knew all about what is going to happen in the future, knew everything about everything, but didn’t love others, what good would it do? Even if I had the gift of faith so that I could speak to a mountain and make it move, I would still be worth nothing at all without love. 3 If I gave everything I have to poor people, and if I were burned alive for preaching the Gospel but didn’t love others, it would be of no value whatever.
8 All the special gifts and powers from God will someday come to an end, but love goes on forever. Someday prophecy and speaking in unknown languages and special knowledge—these gifts will disappear. 9 Now we know so little, even with our special gifts, and the preaching of those most gifted is still so poor. 10 But when we have been made perfect and complete, then the need for these inadequate special gifts will come to an end, and they will disappear.
13 There are three things that remain—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13 (Living Bible)
         Since the first of the year, having chosen the word “gift” as my word for 2019, I’ve been sharing Bible verses which use that word. With Valentine’s Day coming up later this week, it seemed that these passages were most appropriate. Count how many times the word “gift” is used.
Don’t get bogged down by those gifts of prophecy and speaking in tongues. I think they are still around, just not in the way we think. The point is that in the end, when Jesus returns for His people, all that is going to be left is love. We won’t even need faith or hope, because as Hebrews 11:1 tells us, “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” When we see Jesus face to face, we don’t need any more assurance than that.
Thank You, Lord God, for sending Your Son to fill us with Your unending love. Amen. 

Hoping History Stops Repeating Itself

    Around January 27, I noticed a few things popping up on Facebook, statics such as that 22% of millennials in the U.S. weren’t sure what the Holocaust was. Or that 41 percent of them believe two million or fewer Jews were killed during the Holocaust. Or that two-thirds weren’t sure what Auschwitz was. And even though I thought I knew my history (such as that 5 to 6 million Jews were actually murdered during this dark time), I finally just now am getting around to learning the significance of January 27.
On January 27, 1945, the Nazi's largest concentration camp at Auschwitz in southern Poland was liberated. During just that camp’s existence, up to 1 million Jews,75,000 Poles, 21,000 Gypsies, and 15,000 Soviet POWs were killed there.
Unfortunately, and very sadly, there are people who, even after hearing these statistics, still don’t believe them. Even vehemently deny them, opting to believe some crazy anti-semitic conspiracy theory instead. I wonder if these people also deny that more recently thousands of innocent people were victims of genocides in Cambodia, Rwanda, Bosnia and Darfur.
The thing is history does repeat itself. Which is one of the reasons why January 27 is designated as Holocaust Remembrance Day. It is a day in which we should learn from the lessons of the past and realize that genocide does not just take place on its own. It begins with misunderstanding and prejudice and grows into discrimination, racism and hatred. At the Dachau Concentration Camp Site in Germany, when my daughter was there with her class in 2008.
At least, maybe some of our kids will remember.     There are many memoirs written on the subject, from “The Diary of Anne Frank” to “Left to Tell”. The most recent one I’ve read is “A Boy from Bustina: A Son. A Survivor. A Witness” by Andrew Burian.
A sheltered boy from the small town of Bustina (then Czechoslovakia, now Ukraine), Andrew had a beautiful carefree childhood. At the age of thirteen, his world was shattered. Andrew's wartime odyssey began with deportation from his hometown to Mateszalka ghetto in Hungary. From there, Andrew and his family were deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where he survived countless selections and near-death experiences. In the freezing winter of 1945, he survived the infamous 'death march' evacuation of Auschwitz-Birkenau and was loaded into a cattle car for the long journey to the Mauthausen concentration camp in Austria. Andrew survived another death-march to the Gunskirchen concentration camp from which he was ultimately liberated by the U.S. Army. Andrew's journey took him through Hungary, Poland, Austria, Czechoslovakia, England and, finally, the USA where he made a new life. (from Amazon.com)
Mr. Burian’s story was amazing and moving, and I would recommend anyone to read it. But the book was also gut-wrenching at times. Visions of the horrible experiences the author and so many others lived through during the Holocaust floated before me, haunting me. That's not necessarily a bad thing, though. This is the kind of book that everyone should read. It's only in learning more about the dark times of WWII that we can hopefully learn and not relive those times. With all the madness going on in the world today, I fear that something like the Holocaust could indeed happen again. By remembering our past, hopefully, we can avoid reliving it.
On the bright side, the author shared what these experiences taught him and most importantly, what his father had taught him. Things which got the author through the darkest days. Things which could help any of us as well.
Thank you, Mr. Burain, for honestly and openly sharing your life with us. God bless. For more information on the Holocaust, click on this link.