Never Cries

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“I often find myself drifting back into that world I can no longer find. Shutting out today’s invading clamor, I return to the fields of crickets along the railroad tracks of my youth. The great trains enter and leave as if on stage, storming through their roles and departing. Every train has its own character, be it the sound of its whistle, exhaust, bell or clanking rods. Ah, those great steam locomotives……”

Thinking about those times that will never be ours again, I begin to question whether or not they were ours to begin with. Years were spent and I wonder if the purpose behind them was pivotal to our lives, or simply handicapping each other. These questions must be asked, friend. Every ounce in my wants to believe there has been a purpose behind every second, moment, and tear that was expended. Tick tick tick. It’s over. Life moves, whether we decide to be a part of it or not.

As I ponder past relationships, I must say that the LORD has blessed me with the highest caliber of individuals to have entered my life. His hand has truly been on each and every relationship that has been instrumental in developing myself, and others, over the past few years. Warriors in arms, each conquering their own mountain. Looking to the right and to the left, I am blessed to be in such good company. Perhaps there will be a time where all of us can sit down together, once we have reached the summit of our mountain, and share in the experiences of our lives.

25 days. In this short period of time, everything will be different. Do I have the inner mettle to launch into this new life? These questions must be asked, friend. In the book, Wild At Heart, John Eldridge makes an excellent point — as we pursue life, it is not “how” that we must ask, but “what?” Instead of prying of the LORD how He is going to do something, in our lives or through our lives, we must ask of Him what it is that we are to do, and then do it. No empire was built in a day, nor by simply wishing it into existence. No great city was built by ambition, but by steady hands, determination, and a lot of sacrifice. To quote Woody Hayes: “Anything easy ain’t worth a damn.”

That quote reminds me of the motivations that led me to avoid graduation. I’ve said it countless times: “I don’t want a piece of paper to be the only indicator that I’m worth a damn.” Thus, I internally justified why it was that I didn’t want to return back to school. However, it has been in the last few years that I’ve realize the character of a man is not in the number of papers he has with words of praise on them, nor by man-made accomplishments he has done, but by the charisma and worth of his heart. Should a heart be right, thought and action will surely follow. However, these are completely hollow if they have no heart behind it. A marriage cannot function properly without love. Success is no different.

The measure of a man is not in the size of his bank account, the number of cars in his garage, or the stories of his skyscraper, but within his heart.

A heart change. This year has effectively shown me what really matters within a man. As I grow up, reaching out to become the man I long to be, I am coming closer to realizing what is required to do so. Do the most with what you are given. A simple command, yet it requires a lifetime of sacrifice and discipline to accomplish. Oh that all of us could aspire to realize this commandment. The world would be a different place.

Reading through my grandfathers book, I find myself humbled, yet again, as I read of stories that tug at the heart; demanding that we rise to the occasion of life and never look back. Developmentally disabled individuals have impacted me on two different occasions in the past few days, and today I will write of William de Beer:

“One character I will never forget was Willem de Beer, a guy who was regarded as the eternal Fifth grader. As far as I am concerned, Willem had always been around. I saw him when I was in the fifth grade, and long before that. He already sported a whisp of a mustache then. When I was in the fifth grade, unconfirmed rumors had it that Willem was twenty years old. BUt nobody had the guts to ask of course. In class, he would be handing out and collecting papers, clean the blackboard, sharpen our pencils, and other menial tasks. Ms. Keller would never call him to task with schoolwork assignments and reading turns, although Willem would patiently follow any class proceedings as if just waiting for his turn to respond.
For some reason – could it be his hulking size? – nobody would make fun of Willem. And he was known to lift himself about the little rif-raf anyway. When I was in high school, Willem was still faithfully attending the fifth grade…..

Years later, while in Semarang and reminiscing the old times with friends, the subject eventually stopped at Willem de Beer. – I was told that Willem had found an honorable end to his life. It was during the Japanese occupation. I could well imagine Willem, as he defiantly marched down busy Bodjong in full view of the occupational military headquarters, waving the Dutch red-white-and-blue. Told by the guard to eat the flag, Willem spat in his face. Bayoneted to death on that busy thoroughfare, he must have suffered very much…..”

A life well spent. My father’s name was Willem. I wonder if there was a connection/motivation for giving him this name?

Life is too short to be a submissive underling to those who would get in your face and force you to eat your proverbial flag. Stand with your head held high, be defiant for what you believe in, and don’t ever be afraid to spit on the face of those who tell you otherwise. Oh, that we could all live a life such as Willem!

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