New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Column for 2-4 Oct 2020


Column:

Editors: If you would like a picture for this column, please request by email norris@thechaplain.net


WHO'S YOUR BFF?

If you were a "Friends" fan, you'll likely know the acronym "BFF" popularized by the Phoebe character in the NBC series. BFF or "Best Friends Forever" saw wide use among women, but not so much by men folk of my certain age.

Nevertheless, I'm proud to describe Roger Williams as my BFF of 44 years. Honestly, he shouldn't have even become my friend, but he did.

I met Roger in 1975 at a Baylor University party for 100+ California students. I snubbed him because of his shoulder length hair, but my roommate and I calculated we needed a third person to share our cost.

Still, we shouldn't have invited him to be our roommate. I was a short-haired, Pepsi-drinking, ROTC student. Roger was a beer-drinking fan of the American hard-rock band, KISS.

He constantly irritated me with his deafeningly loud music, but I reciprocated by playing his most-hated artist, Neil Diamond. At least we agreed on Linda Ronstadt.

We were roommates who shouldn't have become BFFs. He could talk into the night about sports, but I hated sports. He piqued my interest in Baylor football only when he suggested a double-date in his Chevy Vega. Sadly, my dates wouldn't ride on my ten speed.

After the games, which Baylor often lost, he wanted to splurge on big meals and ice cream. I was the tightwad directing us to McDonalds trying to save nearly every cent for school.

Even though both of us followed a pre-ministerial track, Roger didn't often talk about his plans to enter ministry. I loudly declared a double major in Religion and Journalism, but Roger kept a low profile as a sociology major.

Nevertheless, we both enrolled in an 8 a.m. Greek class. When our alarm clocks rang, I raced my ten-speed to class. He typically followed ten minutes later in his Chevy Vega blasting his latest U2 album.

I definitely should not have brought him to my church – me in my three-piece suit and he in bellbottom cords. He came as a new Christian looking to debate religion while I played the "staunch Christian" who kept his theology tight.

We both pledged a ministerial fraternity, where Roger had his pledge shirt imprinted with "The Dreamer." Frat members thought the nickname was a reference to Nathaniel, the philosopher and dreamer Jesus chose as his last disciple. I knew Roger didn't know Nathaniel, but he did know his favorite Aerosmith song, "Dream On."


We really shouldn't have been friends, yet we've been friends for a lifetime. We were the best man at each other's wedding. We attended the same seminary after college. Our wives birthed their first child months apart and we regularly sought one another's advice when buying cars and houses.

Eventually, I introduced him to healthcare chaplaincy where he found inspiration to leave the youth ministry for a hospital chaplain position. For 40 years, we remained close, usually finding jobs not more than 90 minutes apart.

We were so different. How was it that we stayed friends?

I think we became friends because we honored our differences and never demanded that the other change. We learned from each other and looked out for one another. We saw each other's heart before we heard each other's words.

In these days of division, I want to encourage you to look in the unexpected places to find an unforeseen friend like Roger. Seek people of different colors, dissimilar political persuasions and unique sexual orientations.

Reach out to those with tattoos and facial piercings, men with beards and women with outrageous hair color. Don't avoid differences or demand similarities. Find each other's heart.

It doesn't have to be difficult. Just walk up to someone different. Introduce yourself and tell them Roger sent you.

Four weeks ago, Roger was diagnosed with a fourth recurrence of Acinic Cell Carcinoma and was placed into hospice.

Last Sunday, we sat on a couch saying our temporary goodbyes. I held his cooling hand and laid my head on his shoulder. Then, in between my sobs, I told him that he was the best-ever BFF.

He fell asleep soon after our talk and four days later, Roger died at 63 years of age.

Roger Williams III. My Best Friend Forever.



--------------------------------------------------
Visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris. Contact me at 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.

 

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Wisdom tooth removal inspires a question

View this email in your browser Hi readers!  Please let your church or organization know that I'm now available for sermons or talks via Zoom. MY PREPOSTEROUS MARRIAGE PROPOSAL   I'm lucky that my wife, Becky, still laughs at the preposterous proposal I made to another woman 42 years ago. Today, you're also lucky because she's approved my retelling the story to you.   I begin by explaining how, early in our marriage, we routinely substituted the Brand "X" for the real name of any previous relationship.  The nickname came from commercials which promised a certain laundry soap to be new-and-improved and "sparkly clean" – far superior to Brand X.   Today's story is about my Brand X. The label puts me at odds with my editors who expect real names. There are no anonymous sources here, but between my wife and editors, guess who wins?    On a beautiful fall day, I proposed to X as my Baylor roommate, Roger Williams chauffeured X and me toward the university on my way back from dental surgery.   Yes, you've all seen the hilarious videos portraying someone struggling through the fading effects of anesthesia. Mine was one of those moments.   I'd just had my wisdom teeth removed and believed myself still wise enough for love.   According to Roger, who retells the story with more humiliation every year, I began regaling Brand X with my exciting future. Apparently, I promised X I would graduate with honors, go to seminary, become "America's Favorite Chaplain."   But first, I'd need a wife.   So, somewhere on the route between First Baptist Church and Whataburger, I blurted my what-the-heck question.   "X, will you marry me?"   Apparently, again according to Roger, who can't really be trusted, I gushed while she blushed.   Then, Brand X said "Yes!"   However, I do remember Roger interrupting us several times to say, "We need to get him back to the dorm room."   The next morning, X awakened me with a phone call. Still groggy, I understood her to say she was shopping for wedding dresses. Worse yet, her mother was plotting how to transfer us both out of "liberal Baylor" and into a local Bible college.    The call came to a standstill when my "fiancé" told me that her mom had found a dermatologist for me who could provide a blemish free wedding day.   "Let me get back to you," I told her.    As I hung up, I noticed Roger tapping an impatient foot to the floor. He'd understood the gist of the conversation.     "You've got to stop this thing, Norris," he said. "If you marry this girl, her mother will be running your life."  He encouraged me to reverse this train and tell X that contracts made under the influence are null and void. No, he wasn't a prelaw major, but it seemed right.   So, that's what I told X. Remarkedly, she mostly understood and within the month, our yearlong relationship came to an end.   Gratefully, I can fondly retell ours as a fairly typical college romance. Sadly, this quarantine makes me especially aware that not everyone is as fortunate with their past or current relationships.   Perhaps you or someone you know is living in an atypical relationship where your spouse barrages you with daily insults or mind games. Worse yet, maybe you're being physically abused as well as emotionally.   If that's true, I hope you'll seek counsel from friends like Roger who God has placed in your life. If they advise you to get out, it may be time to listen.     Remember, you are child of God and you deserve a marriage that is safe and thriving. If that doesn't describe your marriage, then it's not a marriage. It just might be abuse.    So maybe, just maybe, today find the courage to seek counsel so that you both become the "new and improved" partner – helping each other sparkle and shine.    This year Roger and I mark 40+ years of friendship. But better yet, both of us have enjoyed four decades of "sparkling" marriages with our new-and-improved brands.     The National Domestic Violence Hotline is a great resource for victims and survivors of domestic violence. Call 1-800-799-7233. https://www.thehotline.org.   -------------------------------------------------- Visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris.Contact me at 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.       Copyright © 2020 Norris Burkes, All rights reserved. You signed up to be on Norris' list! Our mailing address is: Norris Burkes 10566 Combie Rd Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 Add us to your address book Want to change how you receive these emails? You can update your preferences or unsubscribe from this list.

New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
format fix for 25-27 Sept column


Column:

MY PREPOSTEROUS MARRIAGE PROPOSAL

I'm lucky that my wife, Becky, still laughs at the preposterous proposal I made to another woman 42 years ago. Today, you're also lucky because she's approved my retelling the story to you.

I begin by explaining how, early in our marriage, we routinely substituted the Brand "X" for the real name of any previous relationship. The nickname came from commercials which promised a certain laundry soap to be new-and-improved and "sparkly clean" – far superior to Brand X.

Today's story is about my Brand X. The label puts me at odds with my editors who expect real names. There are no anonymous sources here, but between my wife and editors, guess who wins?

On a beautiful fall day, I proposed to X as my Baylor roommate, Roger Williams chauffeured X and me toward the university on my way back from dental surgery.

Yes, you've all seen the hilarious videos portraying someone struggling through the fading effects of anesthesia. Mine was one of those moments.

I'd just had my wisdom teeth removed and believed myself still wise enough for love.

According to Roger, who retells the story with more humiliation every year, I began regaling Brand X with my exciting future. Apparently, I promised X I would graduate with honors, go to seminary, become "America's Favorite Chaplain."

But first, I'd need a wife.

So, somewhere on the route between First Baptist Church and Whataburger, I blurted my what-the-heck question.

"X, will you marry me?"

Apparently, again according to Roger, who can't really be trusted, I gushed while she blushed.

Then, Brand X said "Yes!"

However, I do remember Roger interrupting us several times to say, "We need to get him back to the dorm room."

The next morning, X awakened me with a phone call. Still groggy, I understood her to say she was shopping for wedding dresses. Worse yet, her mother was plotting how to transfer us both out of "liberal Baylor" and into a local Bible college.

The call came to a standstill when my "fiancé" told me that her mom had found a dermatologist for me who could provide a blemish free wedding day.

"Let me get back to you," I told her.

As I hung up, I noticed Roger tapping an impatient foot to the floor. He'd understood the gist of the conversation.

"You've got to stop this thing, Norris," he said. "If you marry this girl, her mother will be running your life." He encouraged me to reverse this train and tell X that contracts made under the influence are null and void. No, he wasn't a prelaw major, but it seemed right.

So, that's what I told X. Remarkedly, she mostly understood and within the month, our yearlong relationship came to an end.

Gratefully, I can fondly retell ours as a fairly typical college romance. Sadly, this quarantine makes me especially aware that not everyone is as fortunate with their past or current relationships.

Perhaps you or someone you know is living in an atypical relationship where your spouse barrages you with daily insults or mind games. Worse yet, maybe you're being physically abused as well as emotionally.

If that's true, I hope you'll seek counsel from friends like Roger who God has placed in your life. If they advise you to get out, it may be time to listen.

Remember, you are child of God and you deserve a marriage that is safe and thriving. If that doesn't describe your marriage, then it's not a marriage. It just might be abuse.

So maybe, just maybe, today find the courage to seek counsel so that you both become the "new and improved" partner – helping each other sparkle and shine.

This year Roger and I mark 40+ years of friendship. But better yet, both of us have enjoyed four decades of "sparkling" marriages with our new-and-improved brands.


The National Domestic Violence Hotline is a great resource for victims and survivors of domestic violence. Call 1-800-799-7233. https://www.thehotline.org.

--------------------------------------------------
Visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris.Contact me at 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.

 

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New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
26-28 Sept 2020


Column:

MY PREPOSTEROUS MARRIAGE PROPOSAL

I'm lucky that my wife, Becky, still laughs at the preposterous proposal I made to another woman 42 years ago. Today, you're also lucky because she's approved my retelling the story to you.

I begin by explaining how, early in our marriage, we routinely substituted the Brand "X" for the real name of any previous relationship. The nickname came from commercials which promised a certain laundry soap to be new-and-improved and "sparkly clean" – far superior to Brand X.

Today's story is about my Brand X. The label puts me at odds with my editors who expect real names. There are no anonymous sources here, but between my wife and editors, guess who wins?

On a beautiful fall day, I proposed to X as my Baylor roommate, Roger Williams chauffeured X and me toward the university on my way back from dental surgery.

Yes, you've all seen the hilarious videos portraying someone struggling through the fading effects of anesthesia. Mine was one of those moments.

I'd just had my wisdom teeth removed and believed myself still wise enough for love.

According to Roger, who retells the story with more humiliation every year, I began regaling Brand X with my exciting future. Apparently, I promised X I would graduate with honors, go to seminary, become "America's Favorite Chaplain."

But first, I'd need a wife.

So, somewhere on the route between First Baptist Church and Whataburger, I blurted my what-the-heck question.

"X, will you marry me?"

Apparently, again according to Roger, who can't really be trusted, I gushed while she blushed.

Then, Brand X said "Yes!"

However, I do remember Roger interrupting us several times to say, "We need to get him back to the dorm room."

The next morning, X awakened me with a phone call. Still groggy, I understood her to say she was shopping for wedding dresses. Worse yet, her mother was plotting how to transfer us both out of "liberal Baylor" and into a local Bible college.

The call came to a standstill when my "fiancé" told me that her mom had found a dermatologist for me who could provide a blemish free wedding day.

"Let me get back to you," I told her.

As I hung up, I noticed Roger tapping an impatient foot to the floor. He'd understood the gist of the conversation.

"You've got to stop this thing, Norris," he said. "If you marry this girl, her mother will be running your life." He encouraged me to reverse this train and tell X that contracts made under the influence are null and void. No, he wasn't a prelaw major, but it seemed right.

So, that's what I told X. Remarkedly, she mostly understood and within the month, our yearlong relationship came to an end.

Gratefully, I can fondly retell ours as a fairly typical college romance. Sadly, this quarantine makes me especially aware that not everyone is as fortunate with their past or current relationships.

Perhaps you or someone you know is living in an atypical relationship where your spouse barrages you with daily insults or mind games. Worse yet, maybe you're being physically abused as well as emotionally.

If that's true, I hope you'll seek counsel from friends like Roger who God has placed in your life. If they advise you to get out, it may be time to listen.

Remember, you are child of God and you deserve a marriage that is safe and thriving. If that doesn't describe your marriage, then it's not a marriage. It just might be abuse.

So maybe, just maybe, today find the courage to seek counsel so that you both become the "new and improved" partner – helping each other sparkle and shine.

This year Roger and I mark 40+ years of friendship. But better yet, both of us have enjoyed four decades of "sparkling" marriages with our new-and-improved brands.


The National Domestic Violence Hotline is a great resource for victims and survivors of domestic violence. Call 1-800-799-7233. https://www.thehotline.org.


--------------------------------------------------
Visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris.Contact me at 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.

 

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What are your COVID blessings?

View this email in your browser Hi readers!  JOIN ME on Sunday at 10:30 EST when I will be preaching by online at Friendship Fellowship in Melbourne FL.  I have permission to let 15 readers join the congregation, so if you'd like to join the Zoom meeting, please reply to this email for a link.   Details at https://www.uuffpspacecoast.org  The Blessings of COVID   Have you heard the song "Blessings" by Laura Story that she concludes with, "What if trials of this life … are your mercies in disguise?"    I confess, I feel a little nauseated when someone suggests that my trials are somehow a "blessing in disguise."   The sentiment comes off sounding like Hallmark Card theology. It makes me want to ask if anyone is paying attention.    I'd like to ask, "Have you noticed the fires in the west and the hurricanes in the south? How about the unemployment levels higher than the Great Depression and the near 200K COVID deaths?"    Many Americans are experiencing a proverbial butt-kicking from this virus. So I think it's fair to ask God, "Where's the mercy? Where's the blessing?"   While I can't answer these questions for the world, I should probably turn inward and do my best to answer them for myself.     For me personally, this crisis has made me more available and present to count the "blessings" life has brought in 2020.   At the beginning of this quarantine, Becky and I took temporary care of a grandchild. This meant we housed, fed, and remote-schooled a 7-year-old grandson we knew only from occasional visits.    While Becky taught him reading, math and writing, I served as the IT guy who also taught science and PE. In between, the blessing blossomed as I took my new little buddy fishing, bike riding and lizard hunting.     For five months, I woke him with breakfast, fixed his lunch and Becky followed with dinner. As the sun set, I scooped ice cream and ran bubbled bath water. Tag, Becky was "it" to read the bedtime books.   And yes, like you, I found my grandson to be perfect. Huge blessing.   Chasing a grandchild required a new level of fitness. Gratefully, the quarantine motivated me to improve my pulmonary health. I've been able to run miles of smiles around the beautiful lake where we live and been spared the COVID 19 lbs. of weight gain.   Finally, the quarantine has provided me with the blessing of spending more time with my best friend of 45 years, Roger.   I've often mentioned "Rog" in this column and last month I wrote of his heroic efforts in serving as a frontline hospital chaplain in this crisis.   That was the same week his headaches began.    Last week, I broke the quarantine rules to hold a hand on his shoulder as his oncologist recommended hospice.     He's dying very quickly and with a horrendous amount of pain from a cancer that's returned for the fourth time in 24 years.   So despite all my "blessings," I'm having a very hard time with the last one. I'm not yet seeing "his mercies."    Story's song leaves me haunted with a conundrum posed by lyrics asking if trials are "mercies in disguise."   After her young husband developed an inoperable brain tumor in 2006, she wrote the hit song "Blessings" in 2011.   "We pray for wisdom Your voice to hear We cry in anger when we cannot feel you near We doubt your goodness, we doubt your love"   As we approach the tail end of 2020, I'm searching for the same wisdom Story sought in her refrain:    What if your blessings come through raindrops What if your healing comes through tears What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know you're near What if trials of this life are your mercies in disguise?   Like I said, all of us must seek our own answers. I pray we continue to find them.   -------------------------------------------------- Visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris. Contact me at 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.       Copyright © 2020 Norris Burkes, All rights reserved. You signed up to be on Norris' list! Our mailing address is: Norris Burkes 10566 Combie Rd Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 Add us to your address book Want to change how you receive these emails? You can update your preferences or unsubscribe from this list.

New Column From Norris Burkes

Subject:
Column 8-20 Sep 2020


Column:

The Blessings of COVID

Have you heard the song "Blessings" by Laura Story that she concludes with, "What if trials of this life … are your mercies in disguise?"

I confess, I feel a little nauseated when someone suggests that my trials are somehow a "blessing in disguise."

The sentiment comes off sounding like Hallmark Card theology. It makes me want to ask if anyone is paying attention.

I'd like to ask, "Have you noticed the fires in the west and the hurricanes in the south?
How about the unemployment levels higher than the Great Depression and the near 200K COVID deaths?"

Many Americans are experiencing a proverbial butt-kicking from this virus. So I think it's fair to ask God, "Where's the mercy? Where's the blessing?"

While I can't answer these questions for the world, I should probably turn inward and do my best to answer them for myself.

For me personally, this crisis has made me more available and present to count the "blessings" life has brought in 2020.

At the beginning of this quarantine, Becky and I took temporary care of a grandchild. This meant we housed, fed, and remote-schooled a 7-year-old grandson we knew only from occasional visits.

While Becky taught him reading, math and writing, I served as the IT guy who also taught science and PE. In between, the blessing blossomed as I took my new little buddy fishing, bike riding and lizard hunting.

For five months, I woke him with breakfast, fixed his lunch and Becky followed with dinner. As the sun set, I scooped ice cream and ran bubbled bath water. Tag, Becky was "it" to read the bedtime books.

And yes, like you, I found my grandson to be perfect. Huge blessing.

Chasing a grandchild required a new level of fitness. Gratefully, the quarantine motivated me to improve my pulmonary health. I've been able to run miles of smiles around the beautiful lake where we live and been spared the COVID 19 lbs. of weight gain.

Finally, the quarantine has provided me with the blessing of spending more time with my best friend of 45 years, Roger.

I've often mentioned "Rog" in this column and last month I wrote of his heroic efforts in serving as a frontline hospital chaplain in this crisis.

That was the same week his headaches began.

Last week, I broke the quarantine rules to hold a hand on his shoulder as his oncologist recommended hospice.

He's dying very quickly and with a horrendous amount of pain from a cancer that's returned for the fourth time in 24 years.

So despite all my "blessings," I'm having a very hard time with the last one. I'm not yet seeing "his mercies."

Story's song leaves me haunted with a conundrum posed by lyrics asking if trials are "mercies in disguise."

After her young husband developed an inoperable brain tumor in 2006, she wrote the hit song "Blessings" in 2011.

"We pray for wisdom
Your voice to hear
We cry in anger when we cannot feel you near
We doubt your goodness, we doubt your love"

As we approach the tail end of 2020, I'm searching for the same wisdom Story sought in her refrain:

What if your blessings come through raindrops
What if your healing comes through tears
What if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know you're near
What if trials of this life are your mercies in disguise?

Like I said, all of us must seek our own answers. I pray we continue to find them.

--------------------------------------------------
Visit www.thechaplain.net or https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris. Contact me at 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 or via voicemail (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain.

 

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Don't Cut in Line -- You're next

View this email in your browser Hi readers!  Please click here to "Like" my Facebook page this week.   THE "NOW" IS ALWAYS BETTER THAN THE "NEXT"   Like most of you, I hate to wait in line. Truthfully, much of my 28 years in the Air Force can be summarized with the military oxymoron, "Hurry up and wait."   My distaste for waiting is placated only when I hear someone pronounce the word "next."    "Next" becomes my favorite word when it signals that the line in the auto parts store or at airport security is moving forward. It means that I will soon command the undivided attention of the clerk or agent.   My favorite kind of lines are those  using number dispensers, such as in pharmacies, ice creameries and barbershops. I love holding that number as I listen to the clerk call each preceding one with the pleasant intoning of "next."    "Next" is a truly delightful place to find yourself, because it means that you've arrived where you want to be. Even better, it means that you've finally vacated the place you were and loathed, i.e., the waiting line.   But this pandemic presents us with a much different version of the dreaded que line. It's become the most godforsaken and sadistic kind of wait – the line to illness, disability or perhaps even death.   Perhaps I'm spending too much time reading the stories of people who've lost their child, spouse or parent. It's tragic to see that waiting line approach 200,000  U.S. deaths.    I know that if I let fear possess me, I will be gripped with a sense of being the next person in line to know heartbreak. It makes me want to search the Bible for a promise that I won't have to be next or that I can skip the line. Of course, there is no such promise.    The truth is that there will never be any guarantee about what comes next in our world. I know this to be true because I've often come to the front of an airport line only to see it close. I was "next," but now I'm suddenly transferred into a new line. That's life.   So, instead of worrying about what may be coming "next," I'm trying to refocus on what remains true in the present. For now, we have quarantine, unemployment and illness.   But I also must remind myself that I have family and friends that are still living with me in the here and the now. That presents me with a choice.  Do I sit around waiting for the next bad thing to happen? Or do I remain present to the people I love in my life right now?   I think you know my answer.  Now is always better than Next.   If I choose the now, I'm rewarded with the knowledge that God promises to wait with us in the now as well as in all the struggles to come. It is a promise made to us in Matthew 28:20, "I am with you always, even to the end of the world."   I look at it this way: On some future day, my "next" will transform into my "now."   That day will surely come too soon, so in the meantime, I will fight the struggle to live the life where God has placed me — in a life filled with the joy of the now.   -------------------------------------------------- Visit FB page at https://www.facebook.com/theChaplainNorris. Read more at www.thechaplain.net. Email: comment@thechaplain.net. Voicemail: (843) 608-9715. Twitter @chaplain. Mail: 10566 Combie Rd. Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602       Copyright © 2020 Norris Burkes, All rights reserved. You signed up to be on Norris' list! Our mailing address is: Norris Burkes 10566 Combie Rd Suite 6643 Auburn, CA 95602 Add us to your address book Want to change how you receive these emails? You can update your preferences or unsubscribe from this list.