Wednesday, March 18, 2015

MY FLOWERS NOW?


Many of you who have read my blogs and understand the nature of my ministry, realize my small four-wheel drive SUV is essential to the ministry. We go to the needy (they don't come to us.) We work where the needs are. We are, (as in most ministries,) dependent on wheels.

The other day I took my Nissan Xterra (SUV) in to be serviced. Fast. Simple. Inexpensive! Things were fine UNTIL they lifted up the car up and looked underneath at the rear frame, I learned a lot. The mechanic said..."This car was in an accident before you bought it ... and it isn't safe to drive!!!" I went down to look at; he was right ... The 120.000 miles it has are hard miles. Oh boy more expenses ... and now a rental car!!!

I sought counsel from several of my supporters, and with one accord. "Von, change vehicles. Get an SUV that's younger and has less miles." They said that they would like to see me in a more dependable car. Well, I can't argue about that ... although, I'm content to continue with the old one and see who out-lives-who.

Having friends check out SUVs ... it looks as if a Subaru Forrester would do the job. Consumer Reports rate it as the best value.

Now to pay for it I'll need faith and friends; plenty of both. We've scraped together half the cost. (PTL!!!) This will be my last car ... if any of you would like to beat me to my funeral ... I could actually use your flowers now!

Send me an e-mail and I'll tell you how. My e-mail address is egvont@aol.com

Thanks!!!

Thursday, March 12, 2015

GIVE ME MY FLOWERS NOW!


We'll call him Carlos, I've known Carlos for many years. The other day in Biarro Pedrigal he came to me asking for some money; it seemed his mother had just died and he needed money to buy her some flowers. I said no!  Carlos' mother had for several years stayed in an old folks home not more than two miles away. She died there. Not once did Carlos visit his old mother living a short distance away. Not once did he give her a flower or a kiss, but now that she is dead, he was tearfully begging for money to buy her some flowers. Too late Carlos! She's gone. Your love and flowers are simply  ... too late.

Why is it when our friend or loved one dies, then we pile on the flowers, tributes and elegant eulogies. Beautiful music, expensive casket! Why?

The honoree is no longer at the service!  He left the building! Really.

I don't think it's so much pragmatism as just simple common sense. FACT! I'll appreciate the flowers and tributes only while I'm alive. When I'm gone what's the point??  Why pile on a ton of expensive flowers and a sauce of platitudes piled over a lovely casket ... that contains the one who was, but is no more?

A simple gravestone ... a simple statement, should be sufficient.  Prince or pauper death is the final equalizer of the rich or poor.

When I die, no flowers please, or hearse carrying an expensive casket ... put that money where it's really needed by the living poor. While the show of respect may impress the living ... the very object of that show of love and respect ... "has left the building!"

Giving your friends and loved ones their flowers now makes so much more sense than an expensive salute to their memory after they're gone.

Monday, March 09, 2015

YESTERDAY


Our Barrio Ministry Days are anything but routine, similar maybe, but never routine. There is always laughter and happy-highs but on occasion there is a place for anger and sorrow. I was providing showers for about thirty boys and I noticed a new boy. He was about twelve years old. I noticed something I didn't like; in fact it angered me. Two reddish and swollen lumps on his lower abdomen. His testicles had not descended and now they were swollen and hurting bad. I called for his mother and she came. I asked her if she had ever seen a doctor on this, and she said she had some years back and the doctor said it was okay and in time they would drop! Foolish and ignorant doctors anger me! This boy was hurting and now the special surgery to drop these into his scrotum is going to cost big dollars! Please pray that we can find a good pediatric surgeon in Tijuana. His mother, a widow with three kids, and cleans houses for a living can't afford the cost of a procedure this sophisticated ... and we can't simply say, God bless you and we'll pray for you. We have to do something, and fast.

A photo would tell the story but would not be appropriate.

We stopped in to Sandra's small house. She had asked for a big stroller so she could push her crippled boy around. We visited her and her boy ... Andres. Andres is twenty-four and has the body of a five-year old. I sat on the bed watching him. He was deformed physically and mentally by meningitis when he was a baby. Again, a picture just wouldn't be appropriate. She mentioned he needs a little heater too, as it gets so cold at nights. His father works at the dump and comes home with a little money every weekend. Sandra? Well, she sells old clothes; she lays the cloths on the side of the street in front of her house hoping someone will buy.

We see so many legitimate needs, and SINCERELY, thanks to you, we don't just pass-by.

On the surgery, we'll somehow pray the money in.

Thursday, March 05, 2015

WILLY THE CLAM


Willy was no different than the thousands of other clams along

The Mission Bay shoreline. He was a middle age clam living a rather tranquil life. The only stress he came across in his quiet life, was low tide ... now somehow clams in Mission Bay area know that at low tide danger hovers over the shore line looking for clams and of course Willy was in the line up along with his friends. The fluttering shadows of Seagulls above him made him nervous ... and there is nothing like a nervous clam.

Well, yesterday it became Willy's turn! A sharp eyed Seagull spotted him, and zoomed down catching Willy in his claws. Willy the clam never had an experience like this. Very rare for clams to fly! Up, up, up he went ... and then the Seagull suddenly let go. And now Willy was on his own hurdling down, picking up speed, faster and faster; faster then he had ever gone before. The Seagull following.

Thrilling ride indeed, but it didn't last long. Willy's courage was commendable: didn't scream, (clams rarely do.) He simply tightened his shell for the inevitable ... and he hit the concrete hard. Splat! His small life broke in pieces.

The big seagull stood there eating the best of Willy. Early morning clam cocktail, leaving the shell of what was Willy on the concrete to dry out and be swept away.

Up, Up and away the Seagull flew over to the shoreline again, You guessed it; looking for another Willy.

It's True: Mission Bay, in San Diego, has some intelligent Seagulls. At low tide they find their clam, fly about 70 feet up and over the cement walk-way, then drop the clam. When it hits the concrete it breaks apart and presto! Breakfast!